The Firebird
by Apocalypticism
Summary: I was a different person when I stepped off the stage. I had my epiphany. Who cared what I did after graduation, all that mattered was that I continued to make music.
1. Chapter 1

The Firebird

by Apocalypticism

**_In_**_ a certain far-away Tsardom not in this Empire, there lived a Tsar..._

_The Tsar had a walled garden, so rich and beautiful that in no kingdom of the world was there a more splendid one. Many rare trees grew in it whose fruits were precious jewels, and the rarest of all was an apple tree whose apples were of pure gold, and this the Tsar loved best of all._

_One day he saw that one of the golden apples was missing. He placed guards at all gates of the garden; but in spite of this, each morning on counting, he found one more apple gone. At length he set men on the wall to watch day and night, and these reported to him that every night there came flying into the garden a bird that shone like the moon, whose feathers were gold and its eyes like crystal, which perched on the apple tree, plucked a golden apple and flew away._

–

Helga Pataki was unattainable. At least, that is what everyone claimed, and most believed it to be true, because overall, she was very unapproachable. It seemed like no one could penetrate her defences. She was a true loner, bristling at any attempts to become her friend.

It was somewhat of a sport here among the guys at school to ask her out on a date. She was treated as the ultimate trophy: a beautiful trophy that was made all the sweeter with every failed attempt. So when I was finally dared to take part in that game, I said of course. Who wouldn't want the glory that came with winning the unwinnable game? Because let's face it, my social standing was on par with being the pariah. I wasn't exactly one of the poor freaks always singled out by everyone else, kept on a close leash of faux popularity, but I wasn't the most liked kid out there in the supposed high school jungle.

So, like I said, I jumped at the chance of being one of the guys to participate in the Helga Pataki game. It was a simple game, to tell you the truth. Each semester, several guys from each grade got together and decided that one of them was going to _finally_ be the one for Helga.

One of my friends got the bright idea that he would really like to have Helga for his girlfriend. I told him that it was a bad idea, considering he was of the more sensitive persuasion. But he got angry and told me that if I knew so much about Helga Pataki, then I should try too. I'm one of those people who gets easily riled up and because of that, I agreed on the spot. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I decided that I would go with the methodical approach, you know, slow and steady wins the race. _I_ would be the one to finally win the game. I would be the one to get Helga to say yes. I would be the one to have the beautiful, fiery Helga Pataki. And most of all, I would finally be popular. No more social rejection. No more working alone on partnered projects just because no one wanted to work with me. No more not being invited to parties, and especially no more being made fun of behind my back. It would be great.

It truly would be great until I realized that I had fallen in love with Helga Pataki, the unattainable.

–

"So you're not going to straight ask her out?" Allen, my friend of the sensitive persuasion, asked me.

We were at lunch and most of the table we were sitting at was filled up with guys discussing how _they_ were going to be the ones that broke through the defences of Helga Pataki. Allen and I, of course, were crammed in the very middle of the table, right between the kid who loved chili but really shouldn't and the kid who probably should see a doctor about his body odour problem.

"No, how many times have guys tried that to be turned down and be kicked out of the game? I'm going take it slow, I mean, has anyone ever said there's a time limit on the game? Nope. I'll take it nice and easy, I'll get to be her friend first, and once I'm sure that she feels something, because I'll be the perfect gentleman, I'll ask her out, and she's got to say yes. How many guys have tried being her friend first? They all just ask her out hoping that they're good looking enough for her or something," I said, taking a sip of soda.

"I suppose it makes sense... maybe I should try that too," Allen said.

"Hey! It's my idea," I said angrily. "I need the status that will come with winning this."

"I need it too, man! People think I'm gay," Allen made a face.

"Just ask out any girl, problem solved," I waved him off.

"Yeah, right," Allen muttered.

The bell that signalled lunch was over rang, so Allen and I — along with the masses of other students who had C lunch — got up and trudged back to the class that had been so mercifully interrupted. Instead of focusing on biology (a class I had spectacularly failed last year), I was making detailed notes of how I could go about becoming the friend of Helga Pataki.

I didn't have any classes with her. She was on the fast track to success, all AP and Honours and Advanced classes, while I was on the fast track to a janitorial job at the local McDonald's, considering I had passed my sophomore year by the skin of my teeth and this year wasn't looking any better. So, to talk to her, I would have to approach her outside of school. That could be risky. I couldn't go the clichéd route of having her tutor me either, as she had been kicked out of the peer tutoring program even though she was probably the most brilliant kid in there.

I laid my head down. I knew that I couldn't just rush into it, but the idea of taking it slow was looking much harder because I realized that there was no way I could approach her without her suspecting me of being "in the game." Maybe that's why she never had any boys for friends. Or any friends at all. She could be so paranoid that she suspected the girls too. I don't blame her, because she did have a few girls participate in the game (but sadly for those girls, Helga doesn't swing that way, even though that would be awesome).

"Mr Gifaldi."

Think of all the possibilities if she did swing like that and I could get her to be my girlfriend. That would be pretty boss... you gotta say. Because she's one of those chicks that would probably be crazy enough to do it. She just has that look, like, I like to live on the edge, I like to do crazy things. It's that look her fierce eyes.

"Mr Gifaldi."

She has really pretty eyes. Okay, I sound like some kind of fruit saying that, but they're really nice eyes. They're big and blue and they have this sort of spark and fire in them that I've never seen in any other girl. They almost glow. I guess that's something about her. Her whole body seems to glow, if you get what I'm saying. Like, have you ever seen someone who has such a vivacious personality that everyone flocks to them like they're a light? It's almost like that for Helga. I wouldn't call her personality _vivacious_ though. Bitchacious, maybe. But it makes her seem mysterious. She's just full of life, in a strange way. Like she feels everything strongly. Of course, it seems like anger is the emotion she feels most often —

"Mr Gifaldi! If you want to take a nap, I suggest you take one in the office!"

My head snapped up and I was looking into the angry eyes of Mrs Yves. She had her arms akimbo with her hands on her hips. I hated seeing her wrinkled, old face with that same shade of lipstick on it as she wore everyday. She must have about 20 tubes of the stuff, or she wore the shade so much that it stained her lips that colour forever. You know, it really wasn't even the right shade for her. It was a bright fire engine red, but she would probably look better in a more muted coral...

"Well, Mr Gifaldi?"

"You know, I'm not really all that tired. I'll just stay here and listen to your fascinating lecture on Punnet Squares for the second time," I said.

"I'm tired of your mouth, every day..." Mrs Yves marched back to her desk and pulled out a detention slip.

"Great, I could really use another one of those. I'm one away from being able to wallpaper my room," I remarked.

Mrs Yves glared at me while the class snickered. She marched back to my desk and dropped the detention slip on my desk, then walked with what she probably thought was assurance back up to the whiteboard to continue her lecture. Mercifully, for the rest of us students, the bell rang. Everyone gathered up their things and was out of the classroom in a flash.

"Mrs Yves really hates you," Allen said as we stopped by our locker.

"She's going to love me next year," I said, shoving my biology book right between my rancid gym clothes and shoes. "Because I'm failing again. Boy howdy, am I thrilled that I'm probably going to have to take the class again next year."

"Well, the school year's still pretty new. It's only October, you should be able to get your grade up by then, right?" Allen asked as he pulled out a travel sized bottle of cologne.

He went on to vigorously spray my rancid gym clothes. I repeatedly told him that that only made it smell worse, but he insisted that it helped and that he wouldn't have to do that if I would just man up and take the damn things home to be washed, to which I usually replied that I was going to see if they grew mould, and then use them for a biology project.

"Of course I could, I just don't feel like it. I could pull A's in all my classes, but I've got better things to do with my time."

"I don't feel any sympathy for you then, if you have to take it a third time," Allen said, coughing slightly from the over-abundance of cologne.

"But I deserve it. I'm the most sympathy-deserving kid in this whole school. I mean look at me," I put on my most miserable face, "I dress like a loser, in all black, so I must be miserable! Look at how big my eyes are and how my lip wobbles, don't I look pitiful?"

"Don't give me that look, Sid, people really will think I like it up the ass," Allen shoved me.

"But you do! From the whole football team!"

"Shut up," Allen whacked me repeatedly with his English book while I laughed. "You see how much you like this book up your —"

"Hey, I gotta go, see you in gym," I grinned at Allen and walked off, leaving him fuming.

I had just gotten sight of Helga Pataki. I decided (pretty rashly, really) right then and there that I would go and talk to her. If I wasn't able to make any advances without her thinking that I was only trying to win the game, then it didn't really matter what I did to be her friend, right?

So I followed her all the way until she slipped out a back door that lead somewhere I didn't know. I waited a minute or two before pushing it open. It was a fire escape that was flush with the building next to the school. You probably couldn't see anybody on this particular fire escape unless you looked up from the alley. Very sneaky.

Helga whipped around as soon as she heard the door open. She gave me a look like I had walked in on her rubbing one out or something. Then I saw the cigarette in her had and got a whiff of the smoke. Huh. Didn't know she smoked. Suppose that's kind of on par with masturbation for things teens don't want their parents to find out they do.

"Oh, er, hi! I didn't know you came out here too," I said sheepishly. I then proceeded to feel around my pockets for a pack of non-existent cigarettes. "Shit, I guess I forgot my pack today. Can I bum one from you?"

"Fine, if you promise never to come out here again... and never tell anyone I smoke," Helga pulled a pack out from her jacket's pocket and handed it to me.

I pulled out my own lighter (I suppose being a pothead had its upsides), then took a cigarette from the pack and lit it up. After taking a drag, I looked down at the cigarette. Oh, God, it was a menthol. God, that was disgusting. A regular one I could smoke, but not menthol.

"Uh, is this menthol?" I asked.

"Does it taste like one? Answer your own question, doi," Helga blew smoke in my face.

I took another drag. "Just asking. I'm not fond of menthols. Hey, didn't we go to school together?" I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. This was the stupidest conversation I had ever made, even counting when I was high.

"We're going to school now, Einstein," Helga said, staring intently at the brick wall of the building beside the school.

"I know, duh, but I mean, like, before this. Weren't we together in 4th grade or something? Mr. Simmons?"

"Probably, what's it to you?"

"Nothing, I just was trying to be friendly is all," I shrugged.

"Look, buddy, Sid, isn't that your little name? I know what you're doing, and let me tell you, all you guys are dime a dozen horny fuckers. No, I will not go out with you. No, I will not date you, or blow you, or whatever it is you want me to do, now buzz the fuck off," Helga said.

"I wasn't going to ask any of that stuff! Okay? That game's stupid, of course you're more than an object, it's sick how they treat you like a trophy." What the hell was I saying? Jesus, was I spinning some big motherfucking lie.

"Like you really believe any of that," Helga turned her back on me.

"It's all true, Jesus, you really can't believe me? Okay? I'll do anything to prove to you that I'm telling the truth," I said desperately.

"Drop out of the game."

I thought about arguing that I wasn't even in it, but I decided against it because I suppose I wasn't really thinking clearly. It could have been because I was talking to Helga Pataki and her beauty was even more stunning up close, or it could have been because I smoked some dope that morning. But it sounds better if I say it was the first reason.

"Okay, done, I'll drop out," I said.

"You know how to officially do it, right, stupid? Then do it!" Helga commanded.

"Fine, fine! Helga, will you go out with me?" No! What was I doing? There goes my chances of winning, fucking shit! No! No! But there's a small chance that she might say...

"No,"

Dammit.

"Okay, see? I don't care about the game," I said, trying not to sound defeated.

"Yeah, whatever. Now go away. I want to enjoy my fix in peace," Helga told me snappishly.

"Well... I hate menthols anyway!" I chucked the half-burned cigarette at the brick wall, then stormed back inside.

The next thing I did once inside was text Allen to meet me in the bathroom, so I could tell him what just happened and get some sympathy for blowing it big time. I trudged to the nearest bathroom and hid out in a stall until I heard the door open.

"Sid?" Allen's voice called.

I burst out of the stall, "I... I talked to her!"

"Really? You talked to Helga?" Allen looked surprised.

"Yeah, I... I saw her and I followed her and she was out on a fire escape sm — uh, reading, and I talked to her."

"What did you say? How did it go?"

"Well, I told her that I thought we went to like, elementary school together, which we did, and she was like, yeah," I was leaving out big, giant gaps of information now. One lie leads to another I guess...

"Really? She didn't snap at you or anything... or think it was creepy that you followed her?"

"Er, I guess not, I made the excuse that I went out there for a smoke, but I had to be all, 'oh, damn, I forgot my cigarettes, shit!' and all that," I said.

"Well, fuck, maybe I should try that. You're closer than anyone else has been before," Allen admitted.

No one had to know. No one had to know! I could still pull this off! This would be great!

"Hey, man, I told you, just ask out any girl..."

"Then it would look like I'm desperately trying to get one to prove that I'm not gay,"

"Well, isn't that what you're doing anyway?" I laughed, feeling pretty good.

My plan would work out and I would have Helga Pataki for my girlfriend, and all the social benefits that came with winning the game to boot. Life would be perfect. At school at least.

–

Well, sweet, here's another story that will probably dry up when I go back to school.

Anyways, I'm of the shipping school of thought that any pairing is cool as long as it's well written, so I thought, well, hey, I'll try to stick my two favourite characters together. Sorry to those of you who can't see Helga with anybody but Arnold.

I can't decide if Save Yourself is over or not. I feel like it shouldn't be, but if I continue it on, then I'll have to make a decision if Sid lived or died, and right now I like it ambiguous, because I don't know myself.

Anyways. Let's see if I can write a non-depressing story! It'll be a fun challenge!


	2. Chapter 2

"So yer really gonna try and date Helga Pataki?" Stinky asked me.

He, Harold, and I were sitting in my room. I was lazily strumming my guitar while Harold flipped through my CD collection, trying to find a CD he liked. The guy did this every time he was over, like he was hoping that a Jay-Z CD had magically spawned from the Electric Wizard and Sleep. Eventually he would decide on the CD he picked every time (it was the "only" one he liked), Korn's Untouchables. So once again I would be treated to the sounds of "Beat It Upright" on repeat. He claimed he only liked it for the bass. I think he's just into S&M.

"Yeah, really, Stinko," I said, "'cuz it's like a game or something at our school."

Stinky, Harold, and I had been split up when junior high rolled around. I was pretty hung up on not having them around any more, because that meant I didn't have anybody who enjoyed playing pranks, but then I met Allen. I was the only one who laughed when he faked throwing up with soup at lunch on the first day of seventh grade. We've been friends ever since.

"But, I mean, it's still Helga Pataki," Stinky said, like that explained things.

"Well, she's really hot now. You would not believe it's her. She's got great T and A. And two eyebrows," I said.

"That's something I'd have to see to believe. There's no way Madame Fortress Mommy turned into someone like that," Harold laughed.

"Well, she's still the same Helga Pataki on the inside," I told Harold. "You couldn't expect that much change from her. Like, when she came back for eighth grade, she had these melon tits that looked ridiculous on her, but then she came back for freshman year, and holy shit. Everything was great."

"I best be expectin' a picture now of this, because, man, she was sommin'," Stinky had a screwed up look on his face like he was trying to remember Helga in fifth grade.

"Ha, yeah, I know. Any ways, Harold, I need you to go and buy me like, three packs of cigarettes," I started to practice the tabs for Wanderlust, a Baroness song.

"What? Why? I hate having to buy things for you guys! I always feel like I'm going to get caught," Harold whined.

"Who cares? I need them because they're part of my Helga-wooing plan," I said.

"Go buy them yourself, you look eighteen," Harold said.

I supposed that I did look old enough, even though I was only seventeen. I turned out to be a late bloomer. Up until tenth grade I was one of the shortest guys, but during the middle of the year puberty hit me like a sack of potatoes. Height, hair, acne, everything. Suddenly I was as tall as about every other guy. Now I have to shave everyday or else I grow a beard like a mountain man. I'm working on a goatee. It's rather impressive and I look pretty boss with 5 o'clock shadow. So, long story short, I probably could have passed for at least twenty.

"They card. Did I ever tell you about the time I got kicked out for trying to buy natty light? Jesus, that lady was pissed at me."

"Sid, only bro douchebags drink that. That's why they got you," Harold explained.

"Oh, excuse me for not knowing the intricacies of liquor buying," I said sarcastically. "Just go and buy me cigarettes, okay?"

"Fine, fine, what kind?"

"Whatever's cheapest. Just as long as they're not menthol," I specified.

–

The next day I was pretty nervous because I was going to be dealing with Helga again and I felt unprepared. Allen kept giving me weird looks. I figured I must be acting pretty strange. I had it all planned out in my head what I was going to say to her, though, so maybe I wasn't as unprepared as I thought. It would go something like yesterday, but without the anguished failure and yelling. I was pretty confident it would go better than yesterday. All I had to do was find some sort of common ground we had and go from there.

So by the time sixth period rolled around, I kept craning my neck, looking for Helga. I probably looked like I had a twitch.

"Aha! There she is," I said triumphantly to Allen.

"Yeah, whatever, go get her, lady killer," Allen said sarcastically. He was in the middle of his daily spray-down of our locker. If the daily spray downs continued, I really would have to go and wash those gym clothes.

"She can't resist my charms," I said, giving Allen a punch as I threaded my way through the crowd to the same fire escape as yesterday.

It was really off in a back way, out of normal line of sight. The door was held open with a pop can, since there wasn't a handle on the other side, so I was careful to make sure it hit the can and stayed open.

Helga turned around and rolled her eyes when she saw it was me again. I just gave a wave and pulled out my illegal pack of cigarettes so as to hopefully throw her off the path of my true motives. I lit up and nearly gagged again. God, next time I would tell him to just buy Marlboros or something and bite the bullet and pay the price.

"You're stalking me," Helga didn't even bother looking at me; she kept staring intently at the brick wall in front of her.

"No," I said rather unconvincingly, "One of my classes makes me, uh, stressed out, and I've started coming here because it's getting colder out, and I don't like smoking in front of the school because you get all those weird looks from business people and that's just annoying."

"Right. I don't take kindly to people out here. This is my one retreat. I don't want you here, I don't want to deal with men while I kill myself a little more," Helga said. "Besides, shouldn't you be in class right now?"

"I've got a free period," I said rather meekly.

It was true. Sixth period I had free. If you wanted to be all technical, I should have been in study hall, but the teacher who got assigned study hall duty didn't give a shit and I had open campus privileges that hadn't been revoked yet thanks to the paperwork system that my school ran on. It would be a sad, sad day when they realized that I had a failing grade in Biology. And Chemistry. And Integrated Maths. But on the bright side, I was passing my English class with flying colours.

"If you come out here again, my fist won't hesitate in saying hello to your face," Helga told me.

"All right, all right," I said.

I turned my back on her and looked out to the street. I had to think of something to say, something, anything, that could open the channel of friendship between us. But what? What did we even have in common? She was a chick who, frankly, scared me a little up close, and I was some lanky pothead. We probably had as much in common as a celebrity and a frat boy.

After I finished my cigarette, I put my hood down and pulled my hair out of the ponytail I had put it in. I learned the hard way that the smell of any sort of smoke stays in hair like none other. I sneaked a glance at Helga: she was still staring at the wall like she expected it to give out gold bars.

"Well, I'll leave you alone now, I'll just go to theatre early I guess," I prised the door open.

"You're in theatre?"

"You sound surprised," I turned and looked at Helga.

"Who wouldn't be? Dope heads aren't into theatre," Helga said.

"Is that my reputation? A dope head? You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is."

"Well, I guess I'm just a dope head with other interests," I said and left.

Okay, I knew I was known around school as a pothead, a kid to get dope from, a stoner, whatever word you want to use for it, I was it. I wasn't the biggest one, by far, but it kind of sunk in hearing it from Helga. I probably looked like a big jerk ass, trying to be all cool and "I don't care," God, why was I so stupid?

This was going to be a big failure, but, you know, I just had to grit my teeth and go through with it. I wanted the prize. I wanted the prize more than anything.

–

It was a boring night at work. I enjoyed my job, I really did. I worked at a record store that didn't really sell just records (you have to admit record store sounds cooler to say) but CDs, video games, and films too. Not only was this store friends with most of the local bands, but they didn't make me cut my hair to work here. In fact, the owner used to play in a tribute band, so he was pretty cool and supported the whole long haired musician thing (a big plus for me).

But it was boring. It usually was. Hardly anybody every came in because the store didn't have mainstream stuff, it was all obscure labels and LPs and cassettes. So my head snapped up when the door opened. I about dived under the counter: it was Helga. What? When did she come here? I've never seen her here before!

"William!" I hissed at the assistant manager (he was the owner's son). "How do I look?"

He looked up from the rows of records, "Like the same zit-faced teenager you always look like."

"Right," I rolled my eyes but ducked down and checked my appearance in the shiny side of the CD. I did look like the same zit-faced teenager I always looked like. Fuck William and his truth-telling ways. I was going to call him Bill now. He hated that nickname.

When I stood back up, I looked right into the crazy pale blue eyes of Helga. "Uh, hi, can I help you?"

"Yeah, Sid, I was told this place had albums from a hard to find band I'm interested in," she said coldly.

"What band?" I was still kind of nervous.

"Blut Aus Nord," Helga said.

"Um... I'll check, and if not, we can always order the album for you," I said, scooting over to the computer to check.

"They're a Black Metal band," Helga said like the waiting bored her.

Shit, I was impressed. Black Metal. Wouldn't have pegged her to listen to that. She really was all nice and girly on the outside, but complete ass kicking on the inside.

"We don't have anything by them in stock... do you want anything ordered?"

"Sure, why not," Helga still looked bored.

"Okay, just put down your name, the band name, album name, and a number we can reach you at when it arrives," I gave her a piece of paper and a pen. She raised her eyebrow at me. "What? You think I would give your phone number out? Please. I'm insulted."

"No, but you do seem to be stalking me lately," Helga started writing while simultaneously glaring up at me.

"Well, even if I do manage to remember your phone number and loose the idea that I'm _working_ right now and that has nothing to do with my personal life, I'll just go home and smoke some dope, problem solved. I'll be so stoned that I won't even remember your name, let alone phone number," I said rather acidly.

Sometimes I have this problem where I won't shut up. That was one of those times where my problem showed up. I was really rather embarrassed once I finally shut up.

"Jesus," Helga slid the paper back to me, "I had no idea you were so sensitive."

"I'm sure that doesn't matter to you," I put the paper in a folder that contained a list of everything we needed to order. "Well, someone will call you as soon as we get it, thanks for stopping in."

Helga rolled her eyes and left. I breathed a sigh of relief and I hadn't even realized that I was sweating. After putting the folder back on a shelf under the register, I straightened up and looked right in the face of William. He had a smug look on his face like he knew something I didn't. I jumped backwards and nearly knocked over a stack of CDs.

"Fuck, William!"

He just laughed.

"So, who was she?" he asked, leaning on the counter. He still had that smug look on his face.

"A piece of work classmate of mine," I said, getting my breath back.

"She's hot. I'd tap that."

"You're twenty five! Grody! And you and every other guy at my school, so get in line. She's some fucking frigid ice queen," I said as I crossed my arms and willed William to go away.

"I don't know man, if she's an ice queen, you've got balls standing up to her like that," William shrugged.

"Yeah, but nothing impresses that girl," I shrugged and went back to what I had been doing before Helga came in: staring at the wall and daydreaming.

Something had to impress her. It wasn't like we didn't have anything in common. She liked metal, and I liked metal. Those were theoretically the same thing, but not really. Helga apparently had a taste for black metal while I leaned toward the sludge variety. Those were pretty different, but they were still under the metal umbrella. I enjoyed some black metal. On occasion. When I was drunk out of my mind. Never.

The more I thought about trying to woo Helga, the more hopeless it seemed.

–

I'm really unsure of how this is going. I'm struggling to get Sid's voice right. I want him to appear confident, but still be really insecure underneath. And he's a teenage guy so some of his priorities are a little different. I guess I want him to appear that he's more than meets the eye and that he's conforming to social expectations even though he really just wants to be himself.

Electric Wizard, Sleep, and Baroness are great bands!

So is Blut Aus Nord.

If you like stoner metal and black metal, that is. I do!

I also put some links to HA doodle art I've done in my profile.

Don't be afraid, I'm not terrible.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Sid, we got all the special orders in. Call 'em up," Kevin, the store owner's other son, said as he brought out some boxes from the back.

I groaned and bitched but was secretly glad for something to do, because once things had been alphabetized for the umpteenth time, there wasn't much going on here. Let's say that I was glad until I had to call Helga. I hadn't spoken to her since she came in to order the damn album. I had been giving her smiles and waves if I saw her at school, but those mostly just earned glares and the occasional finger back. She certainly thought I was a creeper now.

The phone rang and I bit my tongue. "This is the Pataki residence, 347.555.4596. Leave a message and we'll get back to you," the grating voice of a man who was probably Helga's father came through the receiver.

"Hi, this is Sid from Wilcox Records, I just wanted to let Helga know that her order came in today, October 27th. We're open until nine, and we open at ten on weekdays. Thank you," I spat out the message I had left every other customer, not really expecting her to pick up. But she did.

"Hello?" her voice sounded different over the phone. Maybe it was that it didn't sound as angry.

"Oh, hi, I was just letting you know that your album's here," I said nervously.

"Who is this?"

Jesus! Did she even hear the message?

"It's Sid. I'm calling you on behalf of Wilcox Records, letting you know that your album's here," I said quickly, before she could yell at me.

"Okay," she said and then hung up.

That had to be the most civil conversation I had with her, ever. I revelled in that strange fact for a few moments before moving on and calling the next customer.

The rest of the night passed slowly. Kevin, who was nineteen and more fun than William, had a sizeable collection of rock that he kept at work, so we spent most of the time discussing various instruments, time signatures, and lyrical matter of said sizeable collection of rock. Kevin was really more of an alternative and punk kind of guy, while I favoured classic rock, metal, and grunge. But we got along well enough. He appreciated the classics.

"I don't get why people say that Run to the Hills is Iron Maiden's best song. Clearly, they haven't listened to them enough. It's like Iron Man by Black Sabbath. That's the song everyone knows. Personally, I think Rime of the Ancient Mariner is their best song," Kevin said, waving his hands around excitedly.

"Really? I mean, both Run to the Hills and Rime of the Ancient Mariner are great songs, but they're not my favourite Maiden pieces," I started to say, but I was interrupted by the door swinging open.

It was Helga. I fought the urge to dive under the counter again. It was a hard urge to fight.

"Lady, the store closes in like, five minutes," Kevin said. He was sort of bad ass like that.

He looked pretty bad ass too, he had the whole mohawk thing going on, along with about everything on your face you could pierce pierced, and a ton of tattoos. If I didn't know him personally, I wouldn't take him as a man that listened to Death Cab for Cutie and Fall Out Boy.

"Like buying a CD will take more than five minutes. Sid, give me my CD," Helga commanded.

Kevin raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged and pulled out Helga's CD and rang it up. Helga came over and waited rather impatiently for me to give her the total. She always had a pissed off look on her face. Kevin looked her up and down. I knew what he was thinking, probably something along the lines of, "This chick dresses in a pink frilly top and looks completely harmless but she listens to black metal?"

"Blut Aus Nord... you speak French?" Kevin commented, straightening up and walking behind the register area, getting ready to pull my till once Helga left.

"Ils ne chantent pas en française, n'est pas?" Helga responded.

Kevin just made a face. I was silent as I took Helga's money and put it in the till. I was probably turning red and looking all retarded as I prepared to seal my doom.

"Hey, if you want to wait like, five more minutes, we could walk home together," I said.

"Why?"

"It's late out," I shrugged.

Kevin had the same look on his face as his brother had before as he pulled my till. I could punch them both in their faces. Why did they have to be so damn smug all the time? Kevin was only like, two years older than me. He couldn't have that much experience with girls. And it's not like I was inexperience either! It's just that Helga was difficult! It was all her fault, not mine!

"Okay, if you need protecting," Helga quipped, a gleam in her pale eyes.

"Cheap shot," I muttered as I followed Kevin into the office.

He quickly counted out my till. I liked closing with Kevin better than William, because Kevin liked to get out and party. He had places to be after work, so he got out of there like that. In another life, he probably was an accountant (a drunk, burnt out accountant), because he counted out the money in a flash and he was never off.

"All right," he hastily typed on the computer and made me sign a print out. "Go have fun with your lady," he grinned at me, "I'll lock up, since I have the keys. See ya, Sid."

"She's not my lady. She barely tolerates me. But see ya, Kevin," I grabbed my coat and gave him a wave.

I didn't expect Helga to still be waiting outside the store. But she was. My heart jumped into my throat, so for lack of something to do besides looking oddly giddy, I pulled the pack of cigarettes out of my coat's pocket. Helga did the same. We walked silently for a while as I put my hair up into a ponytail and yanked my hood over my head. I had already gone through the whole "parents finding out you smoke" thing once and I didn't want to go through it again, because they thought I quit. Yeesh, and I though that punishment was bad, but it would be nothing compared to when they found out I had started up again. At least this time I wasn't jocking cigarettes from my old man.

"Lay out, Hat Boy. What are you doing? You're creeping me out," Helga said suddenly.

Hat Boy? I hadn't worn my old green hat for years. I didn't answer as we descended into the subway station. I didn't answer as we waited for the train. Only when we were sitting down and in the presence of other people (I hoped that it would deter her from wailing on me), did I answer.

"I just think you're interesting. I want to be friends," I mumbled.

"I don't need friends like you," Helga crossed her arms.

"I never see you with anybody, do you have any friends?"

"Christ! Of course I have _friends_."

"Do you see me as just some loser?" I felt like I would never understand Helga Pataki. Never in a million years, even if I spent every waking moment with her.

"Pretty much, bucko," Helga was staring at the black windows.

"Yeah, because I'm a one-dimensional stoner, and you're a one-dimensional frigid bitch. There's more than you to that, I mean, just look at you. You look all cute and sweet but you're like... Miss Major Ass Kick on the inside. That's interesting. I'm not so boring." Helga didn't say anything so I kept talking like the big fucking idiot I was. "I play the guitar. I'm really good, not to, you know, make myself sound important, but it's the truth. I like to act too. I want to get the lead in the play or the musical, instead of getting assigned to the choir like every other damn time. I read Nietzsche for God's sake! What more do I have to say to make myself interesting to you?"

I realized everyone in the compartment was staring at me and Helga like we had sprouted extra heads. I might as well have. They looked away when I made eye contact with them, though. Helga looked at her feet like they were the most interesting thing in the world. The train started to slow down so I stood up and grabbed onto the metal pole in front of me to keep my balance.

"Well, this is my stop. See you later," I muttered, my face red.

Helga didn't say a word to me as I walked away.

–

The rest of the week at school felt sort of hollow, now that I didn't have something to occupy my time. It was strange, I hadn't really spent that much time focused on Helga but I forgot what I had been doing in the weeks before I thought about her. So work and class and hanging out felt flat.

I saw Helga around. She usually glared at me but sometimes (most likely my mind playing tricks on me) I thought that I saw her staring at me. I couldn't meet her eye, but that didn't really matter, I had lost the game. I could never be with someone like her any ways. She was just a plain old, grade A bitch, no doubt about it.

Then why couldn't I get her out of my head?

"'an, 'oo 'otta li'hten up, 'ow're thin's with 'elga 'oin'?" Allen asked, his words muffled by the cigarette between his lips.

We were standing outside the L&M (Harold told me they didn't card, and for once, he was right), having just gotten off school. I hadn't really meant to get Allen on smoking too, but he asked me for one one day and found he liked it, so now we were always sneaking off of school to go smoke. At least cigarettes weren't half as bad as a joint, right? Besides, he was a big boy. He could make his own decisions.

I watched the lighter spark fruitlessly a few times before I cupped my hand around it, further shielding it from any wind that Allen's hand couldn't stop.

"She's a fucking ice queen, I don't want her," I muttered, getting my own cigarette lit. "She doesn't want anyone to talk to her. She's too good for all that!"

"Tough, man, but you don't have to date her, you just have to get her on _a_ date," Allen examined his cigarette and found only the end to be singed. He cursed and tried to light it again.

"You've used a lighter how many times and you still can't work one?" I was about to light his cigarette for him.

"Shut the fuck up," Allen muttered, sticking the cigarette back in his mouth.

"Hey, hey! I've got it!" I said suddenly.

"Got what?" Allen looked at me quizzically, still hopelessly spinning the lighter's wheel.

"I've got to show her that I'm different! She doesn't believe that I do all these things, but if I showed her that I'm different, she's got to believe me!" I knew what I was talking about, but it was clear that Allen was in the dark.

"Okay, what did you take?" Allen asked, thick brow furrowing and lip curling in an expression of confusion.

"Nothing, really, I just got an idea! I'm going to play a song for her, and show her that I'm not just some dumb stoner!"

"Riddle me this, who, what, when, where, and why?"

"Helga. I'll play a song for her at that talent show thing we do so she'll believe me that I'm different!" I said.

"Hey, youse guise! If you ain't gonna buy nothing more, get outta here!" the manager of the L&M opened the door and shouted at us.

We ran out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, heading on our way to my house. Allen finally managed to get his cigarette lit while I pondered the new idea that had taken me over. Allen sighed and ashed his cigarette, looking over at me with weary eyes.

"Sid, you just said you didn't want her. What's going on? What's running through your head to make that seem like a god idea?" he asked me.

"I've gotta show her that I'm not just another dime-a-dozen boy," I said quietly.

I really didn't know why I was so set on getting Helga Pataki. So far, she didn't really have any redeeming qualities except for the fact that she listened to metal. That wasn't anything to build a relationship on. So I suppose there wasn't any good reason that I was set on her. No reason like we had mutual attraction or interests. It was that she was hot and that she had turned me down. Great start, I think.

"Sid, I know you can be stubborn, but that might take things too far. She's _not_ interested in you, so maybe you should just give up?" Allen suggested.

"I'll just try this, this one thing, okay? And if it doesn't work, then I suppose I'll give up," I said, feeling defeated.

I was going to make it work. But what Allen said was true, maybe thinking about it this much was unhealthy and not good. I could get carried away with things. So I made a promise to myself then: If my one last shot didn't work, I would give up on Helga Pataki.

–

"How are you going to make sure she's even at the talent show?" Harold asked me.

We were all hanging out in my room again, he, Stinky, Allen, and I. I had told them all my plan and it took a long time to convince them to help but after Allen found and showed them a picture of Helga on facebook, they agreed to help, stating that if she was that hot, one of us had to have her. So right now we were figuring out what song to play for the talent show.

When the three of us were split up in middle school, we all were trying to think of a way to stay in touch, because at that point, we were all batshit afraid of loosing to only friends we had made. Stinky came up with the idea that we should form a band, thinking that if we got together regularly to practice, we would probably remain friends. It sort of worked, until it was realized that I was the only one with any talent, really. Stinky played bass guitar, Harold did drums.

They didn't really suck, I suppose, but they just weren't going anywhere. I didn't think I was going anywhere either, but I was just better than them. I was better than Allen too. He played guitar because his mom made him learn an instrument, so he picked the instrument of choice for boys everywhere.

We still got together and jammed sometimes, but in reality, when the the four of us got together, we pulled stupid pranks and smoked. Truth be told, I kind of preferred jamming to smoking, but if I told them that, they'd never listen.

"I dunno, doesn't she have some smart-kid friend who's gonna show how they can build a robot in their sleep?" Allen said, sounding bored. "Wait, she's in that creative writing class, right?"

"Yeah, why?" I looked over at him.

"She did a poetry reading last year, I remember because you and me made fun of it, it was about that forlorn lover or whatever," he said.

"So, she'd probably do one this year?"

"Or be there for the school paper," Allen said.

"Awesome!" I punched the air, "now we just need to figure out what to play. I really want something that'll show off the guitar, with an epic solo, y'know?"

"Whatever, Sid, as long as you ain't gonna be singin'," Stinky laughed.

I threw my pillow at him because it was the nearest object. "Okay, I've improved since then. You haven't heard me sing for years because you've always been doin' it!"

"Why don't you morons just pick the damn song we're gonna cover first?" Harold looked ready to punch us both.

"Well, nothin' you like. Though I'm sure I could play that dumb Korn song from memory by now," I retorted.

"And nothing to sludgey either, okay, if we want to win the stupid show, we've got to pick a more mainstream song," Harold crossed his arms.

"I don't care if I win! This is to get Helga's attention," I reminded him.

"Oh, what a whimp, what a little pussy, going all ga ga over a giiii-iiirl!" Harold fluttered his lashes and let his wrists go limp. "Oh, Sid! You picked _just_ the right song! Fuck me now!" he mocked in a falsetto.

"Hey man, if this gets me ass, I don't give a fuck," I gave him the finger. "So, let's throw some ideas out here,"

"Um, Disturbed?" Allen threw out. "Like, Ten Thousand Fists?"

"Who can match tha' voice?" Stinky shrugged. "I think we should go with sommin' classic, AC/DC?"

"Classic's not creative though, every band covers that, we can really show, well, I can really show off with something progressive," I said.

"Like what, Mr. Hendrix?" Harold asked sarcastically.

"You know, I think we should go with something by The Sword. They sound old school but they're complex too," I said

"Like what song?" Allen asked.

"Erm... well, if we did Freya, people might know it from guitar hero. That's a cool song," I said while I scrambled to get a CD by them into my player.

Once they listened to it, it was agreed upon that we would play Freya by The Sword. Since the talent show was usually held the last week before the semester ended, we had about a month to practice. I hoped it would be enough.

–

Well, I'm back at school again with a heavier class load than last semester, but I'm procrastinator queen with inspiration that usually strikes when I have other things to do, so we'll see how updates go. I don't start until Tuesday though, which means there could be an update before classes start, or I might put up the first part of another story I'm working on.

Sorry, I'm so bad at finishing things u_u.


	4. Chapter 4

God, I was so nervous. This would be the first time I had ever really performed in front of someone other than my old man. Stinky, Harold, Allen, and I were milling around backstage with all the others who were going to showcase their mediocre talents. Oh, you can rap with your little friend who can beatbox, aren't you cool? Whatever. I only needed to blow Helga out of the water. Everyone else could just suck my dick.

Stinky watched a group of girls on stage warble out "Carol of the Bells." I was going over the tabs in my head, praying I wouldn't make a mistake. Finally, the group of girls finished their stupid song and walked off the stage to mediocre applause. Stinky told them they did a good job; the girls giggled and gave him a smile. I rolled my eyes.

The stage director gave us the okay to go out, so we trooped out and got all our equipment set up. I couldn't really see the audience that well, so no hope of seeing my old man out there, which was fine with me. I was, however, able to see Helga sitting right in the front row with a notebook and pen in her hand. Goddamn.

I gave looks to Allen and Stinky, who were getting their guitars ready. They glanced up and gave me thumbs up. I gulped and walked up to the microphone.

"Hey, what's up?" I said, feeling incredibly stupid. "We ain't gonna be playin' nothing that'll fill you with Christmas cheer or whatever, but it's a pretty all right song... If you've played Guitar Hero, you mighta heard it, Freya by The Sword!"

And with that, I strummed the first crushing riff of the song, letting my fingers fly. Harold started off with the drums and the intro was going great. I just had to calm my nerves because I was actually going to be singing in front of everyone. They didn't know I had awesome chops.

"A sword of fire and and axe of cold, vision of the Sybil has foretold!" I belted out once the intro finished. "Armies gather on the battle-plain, all will fall and earth will die in flame!"

I couldn't tell if anyone in the audience really liked what we were playing, but I didn't care. I was starting to enjoy myself, performing for these people. My fingers flew on the frets; I was hitting every note and Allen and them were doing great as well. In the audience I saw a select few throw up the horns, which made me grin.

The others made some mistakes, but they weren't very noticeable unless you knew the song well, which I doubt most of the idiots in the audience did.

"The battle rages, but they fight in vain! When all is done, it must begin again," I finished the last vocal part of the song. Now all I had to concentrate on was finishing the instrumentals.

The last chord was struck and the song was over. We all looked out at the audience, who started applauding politely. There were some kids and old hippie looking guys who applauded more enthusiastically. I looked at Helga for a second, she was only writing something down in her notebook, so I couldn't get a good look at her face.

"Well, thanks all for putting up with a song that I'm _sure_ fits into your everyday music taste," I couldn't help but snark.

After giving my hair a good shake to get it out of my face, I threw up the horns and walked off the stage with Stinky, Harold, and Allen. We all engaged in some bro hugs and regular old joshing around once we were off stage.

"We sounded pretty damn good up there!" Harold said.

"Yeah, I was worried you'd get distracted thinking about Mr Fudgies," I said, "but you pulled it off."

Harold shot me a glare. I suppose he was in too good of a mood to threaten to pound me. We spent the next five minutes gloating around backstage and revelling in our teenage greatness until the general consensus was that we all needed a congratulatory drink.

So, being the delinquents that everyone thought we were, we stealthily made our way to the out of the way fire escape my Helga-chasing had bequeathed to me. Harold brought out a flask full of cheap, and frankly shitty, vodka. The flask was passed around until it was nearly empty and we were all pretty buzzed.

Harold nearly shit his pants though when the door opened. He quickly stuffed the flask in a pocket inside his coat and brought out a pack of cigs, to cover up his jerky arm movement. We all breathed a sigh of relief when we saw that it was only Helga.

Stinky and Harold, who hadn't seen her since middle school, had a hard time keeping their jaws closed. She was pretty stunning the first time you saw her, with a body like her mom's and fantastic jugs. The effect was doubled tonight since she was dressed up for the talent show. She sported a sweet low-cut, lacy, pink top and some tight-ass black slacks that made her butt look godly. I didn't even care that she had covered up most of herself with a lumpy, military surplus type jacket.

Harold had the funniest look on his face as Helga gave him a piercing look and reached into his jacket. She pulled out the flask and downed all the remaining vodka in an almighty gulp. Stinky looked impressed. Helga handed the empty flask back to Harold without a word then snatched the pack of cigarettes out of his limp hand.

"Camel Menthols, why am I not surprised?" she said rather derisively as she lit one up. "I really should punch you, Sid. I thought I said I didn't want to see you out here again."

"I didn't think you'd ditch the talent show for a fix," I cut off Harold's retort and attempted to blow smoke in her face, but the wind nixed that plan.

"I was going to kill myself if I had to listen to another trixie bitch sing a Christmas carol," Helga said before bringing the cigarette to her lips.

"I thought it was a talent show, not a Christmas special," Allen said while he examined his cigarette..

"It helps me get in tha Chris'mus spirit," Stinky said. "An' I think all them girls look pretty."

"And you'd screw them if they would walk within five feet of your hick ass," Harold muttered under his breath.

"It ain't my fault nobody 'preciates a gentleman no more," Stinky crossed his arms defensively.

This sent Allen, Harold and I into uproarious laughter. "You, a gentleman? Ha!" I snorted.

"Well if you guys gonna be makin' fun of me now, you ain't gettin' none of this sweet bud," Stinky reached into his pocket and pulled out a dime bag.

"Aw, you know I was just kiddin', Stink-o," Harold said, shoving Stinky a little.

"Yeah, c'mon, don't be stingy. That's something to be shared," Allen said.

They all spent a few seconds being bros before climbing down the fire escape, probably to head to Harold's car, our preferred out'n'about smoke spot. Allen stopped and looked up at me.

"Hey, Sid, you coming?" he asked.

"Not tonight, I have to deal with my dad later on... and you know how they are when it comes to that," I said.

It was a flimsy excuse, but Helga was acting like some sort of moral compass on me. I had the feeling I would be met with one of her famous looks if I agreed to go smoke with them. I still had to convince her I wasn't a one-dimensional stoner. And I had no idea if I was doing that job effectively or not.

Helga and I stood out there in silence for a long while. She chained cigarette after cigarette. I was impressed with her lung power.

"Jesus, something going on tonight?" I asked when she lit up again.

"Too much for you to care about," Helga spat on my shoe. Bitch.

"You think I don't care?" I asked, hocking a loogie at her feet in return.

"That and I don't trust you and I don't feel like telling _you_ of all people my Sally Sob Story."

"You really are a frigid, uptight bitch, you know that?" Oh no, here goes the uncontrollable mouth again. "I try to be nice to you, but you're so proud and cold and aloof. Why don't you want anyone to even so much as send a smile your way? What's happened to you that you cant even be human?"

"I don't know what stupid, filthy pit you crawled up from, you asshole! I didn't come out here to be patronized by a kid I can barely stand, I didn't ask for some fucking psychoanalysis from you!" Helga set her blazing, icy eyes on me. "What happened to you? What happened to the paranoid, backstabbing little freak?"

"I guess I grew up. I guess I learned that I can't let certain people walk all over me. Sorry I grew balls and stopped being a slimy loser, sorry I have the balls to talk back to you and not cower in fear."

"How absolutely precious, you think insulting me equates to balls! You don't have them. Go run back to your stoner friends and your little boyfriend and leave me the hell alone. You don't have the balls to stand up to me."

"I guess you don't have the balls that you think either, if you're going to stoop the same level and insult my friends," I snapped. Even though her attitude and manner were pissing me off like I had never been pissed off before, I felt strangely passionate. No one could push my buttons like this, no one could inflame me without annoying me.

"How many more times will I need to do that to give you the idea that I want you to leave me the hell alone?" Helga's eyes were burning as brightly as her cigarette.

I was really rather starting to enjoy this. "I don't know, I'm pretty stubborn, in case you haven't noticed. All I want to know is why you treat everyone like they're dirt on your shoes. You _are_ the most popular girl in this school, every guy wants to be your friend and every girl wants to be you!"

"Well they can gladly be me! Because I don't want to any more. You've got a dick, I'm sure you understand that every guy wants to be my friend so he can get in my pants, and all those sluts who make my life a living hell can go ahead and step into my shoes. _They're_ the ones who deserve to deal with a burn-out mother, a blowhard dad, and a sister no one can live up to! I've already done my fucking time, I'm done with all the shit that's going on in my life, and I don't need some greasy fucking stalker on top of it all!"

"There you go again! You act like you're the centre of the world, all the time, like no one is good enough for your high and mighty little ass! Here's a news flash, everyone else has problems too. At least you don't have a mom who chose her career over you and a dad who cares more about getting back on the dating scene than that you're failing school. You live in a nice part of town too! I worry about getting mugged or worse any time I walk around my neighbourhood!" I took a quick but deep drag to calm myself down a little. "And don't fucking flatter yourself, I am not stalking you, all I wanted was to talk to you, but I guess you can't even be civil enough to talk with me as opposed to yelling."

"You have no goddamn right to assume that my problems are anything like yours! I have been dealing with clusterfuck after clusterfuck for my whole goddamn life, and I am fucking sick of it! You have no idea what it's like to be me, and nobody ever will!" Helga's voice was becoming louder and more emotional with every word she spoke.

"That's because you never let anybody into your life ever! You try and keep everything inside because you think that that's some sort of ridiculous strength. It's not. All it's going to do is make everything worse. You're going to be this hateful little shell of whatever was good inside you. Whatever. You know, just fucking screw this. You're too messed up. I give up. I'll give you what you want and just leave you alone." I said, shaking my head and turning my back on Helga to light up another cigarette.

"Good, it took you long enough, you jerkass little creep!" Helga screamed, giving me a swift kick to the ass before pulling the door open and storming inside.

"Dumb bitchy whore," I muttered while rubbing my smarting rear, even though I felt differently inside.

She still intrigued me. What had happened to her that caused her to build such impenetrable walls? Why was she so opposed to let anybody show her that they cared about her? It's like the concept was so foreign to her that she just immediately reacted with hostility. Somewhere along the way, her whole being had been smashed into tiny, glittering pieces.

I pondered the enigma that was Helga while finishing my cigarette. With disinterest, I flicked the butt at the opposing brick wall. The butt hit the wall in a shower of embers and fell to the ground. After staring at the spot that the cigarette hit for about five minutes, I turned around and pulled open the door.

To my surprise, Helga Pataki was cowering in the corner. When she heard the door open, her head snapped up and she gave me a red-eyed look akin to the look one sees on a cornered, wounded animal. There were tear-tracts on her cheeks. I hovered between indecision. Should I say something to her, or should I just grant her stupid wish and leave her alone?

Helga then gave me a look so charged that it sent shivers up my spine. I still couldn't decide what to do. Half of me wanted to kneel down next to her and give her a hug. She seemed human at the moment. It was a strange but welcome change. The other half of me, the smarter half, was telling me to walk away now.

But I had did it. I had put a crack in her thick mental walls. I had proved that Helga Pataki had feelings besides anger and hatred. I had proved that she was indeed, human.

"Get the fuck away! I don't want to see your fucking face again!" Helga tried to say fiercely, but her voice broke at the end.

"Look, I'm sorry. I was just trying to understand you," I said.

"You can't. No one can," Helga snapped.

"Because you don't let anybody understand you," I replied.

"Yeah, that's because it will all get thrown back in my fucking face!" Helga said bitterly.

"It's high school. Everyone turns into a monster as soon as they turn thirteen. But whatever. I'll leave you alone since that's what you want. I'll be around if you ever want to talk," I said and turned and left her.

I felt bad about it but I knew that it was the right thing to do because if I had tried to talk to her any more, she would have ripped my head off. Maybe I got through to her, maybe I didn't, but all my efforts weren't working. Helga Pataki would have to come to me. There wasn't any way around that fact.

–

Hi, this took a while. My life has been a pile of suck lately, so I haven't been feeling very inspired, and parts of this may seem rather forced.

Also, bras are very flammable. If you have a candle going and you're getting it on with someone, make sure that the bra is no where near the flames, because that sucker will light up like the sky on the fourth of July.


	5. Chapter 5

Suddenly I realized why people put so much stock in relationships. Helga Pataki was on my mind every day, every night. She fascinated me. She was a puzzle, and I knew if I could put all the pieces together, I would be rewarded with an exquisite picture. I felt fulfilled just thinking about her. I spent hours thinking about her. Her beauty was conventional yet unconventional at the same time.

Of course she had the classic blue-eyed blonde thing going on but her eyes were too crazy pale to completely fit that model. They were kind of creepy if you looked at them too long. They were intense. She had a habit of wearing too much eyeliner, and she usually looked like she hadn't slept in a week.

But that didn't matter. I found myself fantasizing about the curves of her body: the way her hips turned into her waist, the way her neck turned gracefully into her shoulders, the way her hand connected to her wrist. It was strangely sensual, and pretty odd for me that I was finding sexuality in something other than her assets.

She was in my dreams at night, appearing as a completely different person. In my dreams she was soft and sweet, but still held the same spark and passion, just without the brusque front. That was the only place I could have her: in my dreams.

Or so I thought.

It was a snowy, miserable day right before winter break. Everyone was on edge because of finals and antsy because of the snow. I was sitting with Allen and some of the other stoner kids I hung out with around school when someone sat right next to me.

I looked over and was completely shocked to see Helga Pataki in all her fiery glory.

"Shut up all of you," she said harshly. "Sid, come have a cigarette with me."

I got up and followed her with out a word, but I shot Allen a look. He gave me a thumbs up. Helga and I went out to the fire escape where most of our previous rocky escapades had taken place. Helga pulled out a cigarette, I followed suite.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen up, greasy. I'm sorry. You're right. I'm a bitch, whoop-de-doo, you figured out what everyone already knows," Helga said in a dull voice.

I was stunned that she actually apologized, but I took it in stride. "Well, it's not like I'm a stranger to dealing with bitches. My mom turned into a grade-A one."

"I would take a bitch of a mother over Miriam," Helga muttered.

"Oh yeah? I haven't talked to my mother since I was fourteen. She barely remembers my birthday," I ashed my cigarette and watched the white flakes mingle with the snow.

"Bob one ups you there, fucker can't even remember my name," Helga's voice was more bitter than I had ever heard it.

"Really? It's kind of sad when you _know_ that your fifty-six year old father has more sex than you do," I said derisively. "I can hear him through the walls. He has a perchance for finding and boning every screamer in Hillwood. Nothing could be more awkward that that."

Helga snorted in what I hoped was amusement. "So is this how it's going to be, us bitching about our shitty home life?"

"It gives us so much to talk about," I sniffed, then wiped my nose on my sleeve. "I'm going to a concert tonight. I was going with Harold but he bailed, the fucker. Want to go?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Helga looked at me like I was crazy.

I took a deep drag on my cigarette and felt the head buzz starting. "Because going to concerts is fun, but going to them alone sucks," I said as I took another drag.

Helga took her burned down cigarette and flicked it away. She crossed her arms and seemed like she was considering it.

"Who's playing?"

"Some local band, I don't remember their name. It's fuckin' deathcore, but the venue doesn't give a shit about anything, so it's pretty much going to be liquor all night long," I explained. "Harold gave me his ID." Helga still looked like she was considering it. "And I saved the wristband from last time, so you can have it."

Helga sighed and plucked the cigarette out of my hand, then finished it off for me. "I suppose, since the only other option tonight is dealing with _Olga,_" she muttered. "All I wanted to do was apologize, criminy."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to, Jesus," I lit up another cigarette.

"No, I'm going, but don't read too much into it, you fuckin' blockhead," Helga snapped and walked away. "Pick me up before it starts." She yanked the door open and strode inside.

"What a piece of fuckin' work," I said aloud to myself, even though I was still kind of giddy. A concert with Helga would be fun. She seemed like the type of chick who could hold her own in the mosh pit. But who really cared? I would be belligerent. It would be great.

–

"So, what are you up to tonight, Sid? Got any dates lined up?" I watched my father bumble with his tie.

"When, in the past six months, have I gone on a date? I told you, I'm going to a concert tonight," I said, idly flipping through channels on the telly.

"Well, I've got a date tonight. This lady is pretty foxy. I'll be home late, or not at all."

"Never use that word to describe a woman again," I said.

Dad finally got his tie straight and checked his appearance by using the reflective surface of the microwave. Several years ago, he had realized that his hair was not staying on his head, so he just shaved it all off and grew it on his face instead. I don't think it really made him look better.

"You want me to use your hip-teen slang?" Dad asked.

"I don't want to think about you banging women period. The slang doesn't help," I shut the tv off. "Not that old guys can't have sex, I just don't want to think about my father having it."

"Suit yourself. If you just let me give you some tips, you could be dating ladies like me," Dad said, grabbing his keys, wallet and cigarettes from the kitchen counter. "Have a good night, son!"

And with that, my old man was out the door. Jesus H. Christ, I thought he would never leave. I rolled my eyes at how he was acting more like a hormonal middle-schooler than the nearly retirement age guy he was. When I was sure that he was long gone, I sat out on the back porch and lit up a cig. It wasn't snowing any longer, but it was still chilly.

Once the cigarette was finished, I headed up to my room and brought out my stash. After some rustling around in my sock drawer, I found my favourite little pipe and packed a bowl. I blazed for a while and enjoyed myself, relaxing and listening to some music. For me, nothing could beat the feeling of being high. Nothing made me feel more content or relaxed. And I wasn't going to stop any time soon.

After that, I got ready for the concert.

I didn't shave, so I was covered in the facial hair department, but I threw on a red plaid flannel and a black soccer jacket, as well as some dark boot-cut jeans and my favourite pair of boots. After checking myself in the mirror, I put in some eye-drops to be safe and grabbed a pair of aviators.

I checked the time and saw that I should have left ten minutes ago, so I stuffed my wallet (ID replaced with Harold's of course), cigarettes, and phone in my pockets, then nabbed my keys and locked the door. I caught the train that took me up near Helga's house. Shit, these houses were nice. I felt like a street urchin or something walking around.

Finally I found her house and rang the doorbell. After several minutes, the door opened and Helga stood there, looking pissed like usual. But she also looked hot like usual. Instead of the more conservative style she usual wore for school, she had on a black t-shirt, skinny, black, ripped jeans, a pink belt and some heavy looking black combat boots. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her make-up was darker than I usually saw it.

"Ready to go?" I asked, trying not to sound like I had been staring.

"Yeah," Helga sounded angry and tired as she grabbed her coat.

We walked, silent, to the bus stop, each of us probably focusing on not slipping on the slick pavement. I was probably focusing more intently, since I was starting to get a little faded. The wait at the bust stop was awkward too, each of us apparently not having anything to say.

Eventually the bus came and we were on our way. I was starting to think that maybe I should have just invited Allen instead, because Helga wasn't shaping up to be very good company.

"When does this thing start?" Helga was looking idly out the window.

"At ten. It's fifteen to get in," I checked my phone for the time and saw that it was about 9:45. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"You think I'm going to drink?" Helga set her creepy pale eyes on me.

"Well, yeah. I mean, the band sucks. It's like listening to a dying, tone deaf cat, and alcohol makes any music sound better. I'm going there to get belligerent, I don't know about you."

Helga just scoffed and crossed her arms, shaking out her hair. I shrugged and pulled the stop request line, seeing that we were near the venue. The bus shuddered to a stop and Helga and I got off. Before going inside, we both had a cigarette, since smoking wasn't allowed in the venue.

To my surprise, I saw Kevin hanging out in front with some of his friends, smoking a Black & Mild.

"Hey, Kevin!" I shouted,waving him over.

He laughed and stumbled towards us, grinning and yelling at his friends that it was cool.

"Sid, buddy! What are you doin' here? Y'all can't be here for the music," he laughed.

"Oh, fuck no, I am here to get fucked up," I said. "I see you got started early."

Kevin dissolved into giggles and put his hand on my shoulder, ashing his Black & Mild on my jacket. His friends burst out laughing at this, they were probably just as fucked up as Kevin was. I gave Helga a look like, why did I start talking to this guy? She just rolled her eyes and walked for the door, stomping out her cigarette.

"Oh yeah... I haven't been sober since, Jesus... since yesterday, man. You should totally come and like... party with us after this! We picked up some, you ever done shrooms? I've got acid, man, you need to come and party with us, Sid, come and party!" Kevin broke down into giggles again and I vaguely wished I was where he was.

"Sure, find me when you're ready to go, dude, catch me then," I gave Kevin a friendly punch in the arm and headed inside. I wasn't really sure if he would remember to come and find me.

I walked inside and paid to get on the floor as well as showing them Harold's ID to get a wristband. The lady looked at the ID, then looked at me, then back at the ID again. I worried for a second that she was going to tell me to get the fuck out, but she handed me the ID and a yellow wristband with a smirk. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and placed it on my wrist.

The first thing I did was walk up to the bar and order three shots. I downed those, then got a beer and went to find Helga. She was out on the floor in the crowd, listening to some guy on the stage do a sound check. She looked over when I walked up.

"Hey," I said, surreptitiously slipping her the old wristband from my pocket.

"I can't believe they thought you were Harold. You are such an idiot," Helga said, but wandered off, presumably to find some way to affix it to her wrist.

When she found me again, the show had already started. There was a beer in her hand and she was looking more relaxed. I was already pretty drunk. It was my... sixth or so drink. Something like that. Either way, I was already drunk.

"Hey, you took a while," I said to her, not realizing that she didn't catch a word I said.

"What?" Helga shouted.

"You took... never mind," I shook my head and shrugged, hoping to communicate to her that it wasn't important.

We stood together, watching the band thrash around on stage. No one in the crowd was really excited by the band except for one kid who kept trying to start a pit until a larger, older man pushed him around a little bit. He went back to silently headbanging after that.

After about an hour, I realized that no amount of alcohol was making this band sound good. At this point it was becoming difficult to focus on anything at all, the swimming feeling of being drunk was all around me. I saw a snatch of blond hair next to me and realized that it was Helga. I tapped her shoulder to get her attention. She whirled around and looked at me fiercely for a second before seeing that it was only me.

"I'm leaving, I'm takin' off... I need a cigarette and they don't let you back in once you've left, so, yeah. You wanna come with? I might go and party with friends, if you wanna come," I shouted into her ear, probably sounding very drunk. "I just need to go walk around and sober up."

"You're such a dumbass, you'll get yourself arrested if you go outside," Helga shouted back.

"Please, come with me then?" I was going to die if I didn't get a cigarette soon.

"Fine, go to the bathroom or something and I'll meet you there," Helga sounded impatient.

I nodded and stumbled through the crowd, drunk as shit. Using the bathroom drunk was embarrassing. A simple task got turned complicated, and it was a task that you unfortunately were subjected to quite often. I made a mental note to stop at a gas station and buy a Red Bull and a bottle of water. Once I had relieved myself, I waited for Helga.

After what seemed like a really long time, I saw her push her way out of the crowd. I waved at her like an idiot until she came over and pinned my arm to my side.

"How many drinks did you have?" she asked as we made our way outside.

"Um, like, a lot," I laughed and tried to light my cigarette. Helga scowled and yanked it out of my mouth, flipping it around so I wasn't trying to light the filter. After several tries, I managed to light it. I took a few deep drags and relaxed, the cold air on my face making me feel a little more sober. "I had like... two, three shots, no, five shots and two beers."

Helga looked extremely pissed as she cupped her hand around her cigarette, shielding it from the bitter wind. She exhaled a cloud of smoke and directed it at my face.

"You are the worst drunk I've ever met. I'm never going anywhere with you again," Helga snapped.

"Are you even drunk? Being the only drunk around is no fun, you should be drunk too," I wanted to slap myself. Normally I had problems shutting up, but now the presence of alcohol just multiplied it further.

"I had three drinks. I'm buzzed. In case you haven't noticed, I have a convenient live-in campaign against under-age drinking in my own home."

"Oh, right, yeah," I had already burned through my cigarette, so I pulled out another. I could only chain when I was drunk. "So will you party with me?"

"Fuck no," Helga said, "I'm going home."

"Aw, please don't go! You're keeping me... like, from doing too much. If you go, I'm gonna get really fucked up."

"Fine then," Helga walked up to me.

She was uncomfortably close. I stiffened when she reached her hand into my pocket. She only pulled out my phone though and tapped on it for a few seconds before thrusting it back into my hand. There was a huge scowl on her face. I think I would die of shock the day I saw her smile.

"There. My number's in your phone, call me at three am and sob your drunk regrets to me, but I'm not going to get fucked up with you and fuckin' deadbeat friends," Helga said. "And make sure you can walk like a sober person. This place will be crawling with cops as soon as the concert's out."

And with that cheerful warning, she walked off. I stood out there in the cold, watching the snowflakes begin to fall, while pondering what would happen next with Helga. Would she come and talk to me again, or did I put her off with my drunken antics? I guess I would just have to wait until later to see.

When I was about half-finished with my second cigarette, people started to pour out of the venue. I kept my eyes open for Kevin. I was lucky. He and his friends dove off to the alleyway between the venue and the bar next to it, where I and every other addict was having a cigarette.

"Oh, Sid, what's up?" Kevin laughed, drawing out my name to a ridiculous length. He gave me a high five while he and all his friends lit up their cigs.

"Not much, I dove out a little early because I was cravin' a cig, man. What're you up to?"

"We're heading back to my place to get fucked up, you wanna come?" Kevin asked. "All these guys know you're a cool little dude."

"Sure, I'm totally up for it, man, I don't even want to remember my own name," I said. 

–

I woke up with a splitting headache and a stiff neck and still a little bit drunk. I woke up in my room, which surprised me, because the last I remembered, I was at Kevin's place. There wasn't a girl in bed next to me, so that ruled some things out. I was half in my clothes from last night. I still had on my plaid shirt, my jeans and one boot. The other boot was nowhere to be found.

I gave an almighty groan and rolled around under the covers, trying to find a comfortable position so I could go back to sleep, but at that point, I noticed the distinct sound of squeaking springs and breathy lady moans coming from my old man's bedroom. I let out a few curse words. The moans turned into screams. I threw a pillow over my head, but that didn't drown them out.

When it was clear that God did not want me going back to sleep, I rolled out of bed and into the shower. That helped me feel a little better, but overall, I was still feeling pretty shitty. After getting out of the shower, I threw on a pair of pyjama pants and tumbled downstairs.

There was a woman sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in a man's shirt and smoking a cigarette. A pot of coffee had already been brewed, so I poured myself a cup and sat down across from the lady. She didn't make eye contact with me. I didn't give a shit. I was too miserable to care what this lady was thinking right now, seeing her one night stand's son half naked in the kitchen.

After the coffee started to wake me up a little, I fished a cigarette out of my dad's pack and lit up.

"You have a good night?" I asked the woman.

She was pretty attractive and about half my dad's age.

"I suppose," she said awkwardly, looking at her hands. "Aren't you a little young to be smoking?"

"You'd think so, right? But I'm not, I'm really nineteen. He's just a little senile. Forgets my age and all that, thinks he's younger than he really is and all that. It's sad," I said, pulling the ashtray over towards me.

"Oh, so do you go to college then?"

"Yep. I'm on winter break, home from Princeton." I wasn't sure if this broad believed me or not.

She shook her head, "You know, I saved your ass when you stumbled home at four am, drunk."

"Well, thanks then. Could you clear that up for me? How did I get home?"

"How should I know?" She shook out her dark hair and ashed her cigarette. "I just kept your daddy from going to check I out."

"Well, thanks then. Guess that makes up for the screaming that kept me from going back to sleep," I took one last deep drag on my cigarette and put it out in the ashtray.

The woman turned red and looked back down at her hands. I headed back upstairs to my room, taking my cup of coffee with me. It was time for a little detective work, figuring out how I managed to make it home last night, and what I did after I got to Kevin's apartment.

–

hurp a durp I am not sure how I feel about this chapter. I'll try to keep the teen partying to a minimum, but drunk people are just so funny (apparently I am a hilarious drunk).

Anyways, off to watch The Young Victoria.


	6. Chapter 6

Winter break sure sucked a lot more than I remembered. Dad was working all day and I only worked nights at the record store, which lead me to having great stretches of time to myself. Those gaps were filled with lots of smoking and some creativity. Mostly smoking, but sometimes a combination of the two. Mostly smoking.

I was sitting on my bed, strumming my guitar and thinking about finals week, the last time I had seen Helga. She wouldn't look me in the eye or say a word to me. Not like it was any different than before, but still I wondered what happened. Did I really piss her off that much, taking her to that concert? I shook my head as if that would shake out all the unlikely possibilities and leave me with a clear answer.

My fingers started strumming Queen's Killer Queen.

"She's a killer queen, gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam, guaranteed to blow your mind, any time," I sang softly.

I looked over at my cellphone which was lying right next to me. I had Helga's number. I could call her. After some (okay, a lot of) deliberation and arguing with myself, I picked it up and scrolled through my contacts to find her name. My thumb pressed the call button as I lifted the phone to my ear. It rang four times. Four slow, torturous times.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Helga, it's Sid," I lit up a cigarette to calm my nerves.

"What do you want?" she sounded angry.

"I just wanted to see if you felt like hanging out," I sounded too apologetic for my liking.

"What, so you can have someone babysit you while you get fucked up? Where are your dumbass friends? Hang out with them."

"Harold and Stinky are just pissing me off, and Allen's in Minnesota, visiting his grandma's deathbed. Look, I just wanted to see if you wanted to catch a movie or pelt little kids with snowballs or something."

"Good golly gee, pelting children with snowballs sounds so very, very tempting."

I could imagine Helga rolling her eyes at me.

"I thought it would be something you enjoy, you know, since you enjoy being mean and a bitch and all that. Afterwards, you could buy them hot chocolate, because sometimes, you're nice."

"I do not _enjoy_ being a bitch," Helga snapped.

"Whatever, I don't want to argue with you about the whys and hows of your defence mechanism. Do you, or do you not want to do something today that, although it may resemble a date, is not actually one?" I ashed my cigarette in an empty can of Mountain Dew.

I heard her sigh, "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I dunno, like I said, movie. We could go to an art museum. Chicks like museums, right?"

"They bore me out of my skull."

"We could ride the subway and make commentary on the people we see down there."

"Do you have any idea that's remotely fun?"

"You could come over to my house and smoke with me," I said, strumming my guitar again, this time my fingers playing no tune in particular. "I could sit naked on your couch and play music for you. I don't know. I just want to do something."

"Like I would smoke with you," Helga said.

"You wouldn't. You haven't smoked before. Why?"

"Because it's illegal, you dumbass."

I bit back a laugh, "Then why did you drink at the concert? That's illegal too, and so is smoking cigs, since you're seventeen. Look, why don't you come over and just do it once with me and then make judgement on it. It's stupid to hate something you haven't done, like how you say you hate a food you haven't tried."

I waited for Helga to give me some snappy retort or call me a name, but she didn't. She was silent. I had no idea if she had hung up or not, so I started playing Bron-Y-Aur Stomp and sang along a little to myself. I hadn't closed my phone; I was waiting for some sort of sound to tell me if Helga was still on the line.

"I caught you smiling at me, that's the way it should be, like a leaf is to a tree, so fine. All the good times we had, I sang love songs so glad, always smiling, never sad..."

"What the hell are you saying?" I heard Helga's voice say.

"It's just a song, damn good song... I didn't know if you had hung up on me or not."

"What's your address?" Helga said.

Was she really coming over? Or was she just going to call the cops on me? I decided for her, I could take a chance. Hi, Pop, sorry, I got busted because I was trying to get with a hot chick. We cool? Actually, if I put it that way, he might understand.

So I told her my address and hoped that I didn't fuck myself over.

–

"How can you live in this shithole? I felt like I was going to get shanked walking here," Helga told me as soon as I opened the door.

"It keeps me on edge, knowing I could die if I went outside," I said dully, stepping aside to let her in. "But it's cool really, everyone knows not to shoot me because I buy from them. Why would they want to loose a source of income? But whatever, come on in."

Helga stepped inside and pulled off her coat, throwing it over the couch.

"Do you want anything, water, soda, shitty beer?" I said as we walked by the kitchen.

"No," Helga crossed her arms.

"You're gonna want something," I said and got two glasses of water. "Cotton mouth isn't fun for anyone."

Helga scowled and looked like she was reconsidering being here. I led her up the stairs to my room, which was still as messy as it had been when I was younger. The posters of old cars and trains had been replaced with posters of bands and naked women and newer, sportier cars. What can I say, tastes change and hot women never get old.

I directed Helga to sit on my bed, then opened the window a crack. Grabbing my little pipe from where it sat on my dresser, I handed it to Helga, then brought out my stash. Helga turned the pipe over in her hand, examining it. It was a pretty pipe, sea green and aqua and blue all swirled together.

I dropped down on the bed beside her, taking the pipe and packing a bowl.

"You can hate it all you want after this, but your state of mind really can affect your high. So if you don't want to be miserable for the next hour or so, open your mind a little," I said, looking everything over and making sure it was fit for smoking. "Now," I grabbed a lighter from my bedside table, "you cover the little hole with your thumb, then just inhale," I flicked the lighter, holding it close so that the flame got sucked into the bowl.

I exhaled a cloud of smoke at the cracked window and passed the pipe to Helga. She hesitated a second, then grabbed it. I passed the lighter to her as well. I got up and rifled through my CDs, trying to find some chill music to listen to.

There was the clicking sound of a lighter and then a loud, dry cough. I turned around and saw Helga hacking her lungs out into her elbow.

"Jesus, that shit burns!" she said before grabbing her cup of water.

"It doesn't really bother me any more. Just make sure, if you're gonna cough, don't have the pipe in your mouth. That shit will explode everywhere. Happened to me the first time I smoked and everybody got so pissed at me," I said, going back to picking through my CDs.

Eventually, I decided that some Dead Meadow was in order, so I put in their Feathers album. When I sat back down on the bed, Helga immediately passed the pipe to me. I took a few hits, starting to feel it a little bit.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Helga, who was sipping water.

"Not high," she sounded angry.

"Have a few more hits, keep doing it until your lungs say no," I passed the pipe back to her. "You should try and hold the smoke in too."

Helga gave me a look, but took the pipe. She put it up to her lips and took a hit. I laid back on my bed and listened to the music. This was relaxing. I almost forgot Helga was here, until there was a gentle tap on my arm. Opening my eyes, I saw Helga proffering the pipe and lighter to me. I took them both.

"Are you high?" I asked her.

"...I don't know," she said slowly, like the cogs in her head were spinning sluggishly.

I laughed, "Well, if you have to think about it, you probably are."

We finished the rest of the bowl together. I packed another one for myself, but let Helga have a few hits of it. I was in a good spot. I was nice. We both laid there on the bed, relaxing. Some people wanted to go out and do things when they were high, but I never did. I just wanted to sit and listen to music.

"Okay, this is all right," Helga said, still sipping her water.

"Yeah, it's pretty good, huh?" I felt rather smug.

"I'm going to fall asleep," Helga murmured.

I sat up and lit a cigarette, looking out my window. The thing was I ended up thinking a lot when I blazed. Sometimes it was nice, but other times it just pissed me off because that was the whole reason I smoked, to relax and get my mind off things.

I licked my lips and sighed. The cigarette tasted like weed.

"You want to go get something to eat? I have the munchies," I said.

"As much as I don't want to present myself in public, I'm hungry too," Helga said.

"Well, I can just run to the Wendy's up the street and you can wait here," I suggested.

"Sure. Get me their chicken nuggets and a frosty," Helga closed her eyes again.

I nodded (even though she couldn't see me do that) and got my coat on, cigarette jammed in the side of my mouth so I looked like some dumbass hick. I wasn't sure if I wanted to leave Helga Pataki alone in my room but then again I hadn't really wanted her in my house, and that turned out okay, so I guess I would have to trust her. Ha.

On the cold walk to Wendy's I realised something. I was definitely— maybe, I mean, I hadn't experienced anything like it before, so it made sense— in love with Helga. Maybe not like a deep, true, forever, grow old together kind of love, but I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to make her smile and blush and tuck her hair behind her ears because she didn't know what to say instead of flustering her and trying to poke and prod at her to get a reaction.

It was kind of a weird feeling, I had been thinking about why I was so fixed on her, and then the cogwheels of my stoned mind started turning. I thought, well, maybe I love her. And maybe I did. Maybe it was a just a sweeter form of lust, but I think it was love. I loved her. It made sense at least, because I had been thinking about her so much.

God be damned if I wanted to marry her, or start a family with her or any shit like that. I just wanted to hold her hand and brush hair out of her eyes and kiss her and of course make love to her.

I kept thinking about all this as I walked back to my house. It was a very mind engaging topic. However, when I got back to my house, Helga was dead asleep on my bed. I wondered if I should wake her up or not and figured that it would be in my best interest to wake her up, rather than have her wake up and question what happened during the time she was asleep.

First, I tried saying her name, but that didn't wake her up, so I gently shook her shoulder. A hand flew up and smacked my face, sending me stumbling back a few steps as pain blossomed, slowly spreading from my nose to the rest of my face. Helga made a noise halfway between surprise and annoyance, but I was more focused on the biting hot pain.

"Son of a bitch! You had a ring on!" I pulled my hands away from my face and saw blood on the palms.

"You woke me up! You startled me!" Helga said loudly, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

I didn't respond, I just hobbled to my bathroom to assess the damage done to my face and to staunch the bleeding. Helga trailed behind, watching my pain with a strange sort of curiosity on her face.

Once I had flipped on the light, I blinked at my face in the mirror. Blood was dribbling down my face and some of it was on my lips. I could taste the distinctive salt and copper in my mouth. My nose was bright red and still smarting. I touched it gingerly. It didn't seem broken (I didn't think she hit me hard enough to break my nose anyway) but there was a mark where her ring had hit me.

I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped away the blood, then rolled up some sheets and plugged both my nostrils with them. Helga leaned on the door frame, watching my tend to my wounded face.

"You startled me," she said again.

"Yeah, I gathered that. If I ever have to wake you up again, I'm poking you with a broom handle while I'm very far away," I said, my voice odd-sounding due to the toilet paper jammed up my nose. "I woke you up because your food's here, and I felt like you wouldn't enjoy drinking your shake."

Helga made a face that seemed almost apologetic before heading back into my room. There was the rustling of a paper sack and I knew she had sat down to eat. I looked back at my still bright red face. If I was lucky, it wouldn't bruise.

I can't believe that bitch nailed me.

–

"Sid, what the hell happened to your nose?" my old man had taken a long, hard look at my now spectacularly bruised nose.

–

Hip, hip, hooray! We have another part. I think I'm hitting the middle-part-slump. I have action planned, but I just need to get there with no idea how to get from point A to B.

I'm debating about jumping this story from a T to an M because there probably will be more depictions of underage drinking, drug use, and maybe some lime-esque stuff later on. I don't really want to jump it to an M because I feel like those don't get as much attention as lower rated stories, but whatevs. I'll do what I have to do.

Also, I made an illustration for this fic. The link is in my profile.

In other news, I go back to college tomorrow. Updates will probably remain sporadic.

Thank you for the reviews, the HA! fan community probably has to be my favourite to write for, you guys are great :).


	7. Chapter 7

"Jesus, Sid, your face!" was the first thing Allen said to me on our first day back at school.

"So says everyone who meets me," I rolled my eyes and opened our locker.

I nearly gagged at the smell of my gym clothes. Allen retched a little behind me. People walking by sniffed and went, "What the hell is that nasty ass stink?" I quickly grabbed the books I needed and shut the locker.

"I can't believe it, man, you didn't take those things home?" he said.

"Nope, now I'm kind of curious to see what they'll do now. It would be neat if they had to get people in hazmat suits to clean out the locker at the end of the year," I said, stuffing the books in my gay-ass messenger bag I've had since 7th grade.

"I want orchids at my funeral."

"Orchids? Maybe you really are gay."

Allen punched me in the arm, "Fuck you. Seriously though, what happened to your face?"

"Some bitch with a ring on nailed me," I said simply.

It was true. I didn't really feel like elaborating on the circumstances. Helga probably wouldn't be too happy with me spreading around that _I_ had been the one to get her to try pot. And I would never live down having her alone and under the influence and not taking advantage of those two facts. Never.

Sometimes I lamented the fact that I was a gentleman.

–

It was another boring Biology class. School had been passing by slowly. There wasn't much happening outside of school either, just work. I thought high school was supposed the be the best four years of my life that I would spend doing copious amounts of stupid shit, like going on camping trips with amazing amounts of booze and drugs, going to concerts and getting ass, going to dances and getting ass, getting ass in general really.

High school girls did not put out. For me at least. Which sucked. I knew I was a better lover than some meathead football player. All he probably knows is just keep pushing. I liked to entertain the idea that I had seen enough skin flicks and read enough online to know what a lady wants.

"Mr Gifaldi, if you'd like to join the land of the living," Mrs Yves said.

I jerked my head up from where it was laying on my desk. Half my notebook came up with me. A few sophomore girls giggled at that. They were silence by a smouldering glare from Mrs Yves.

"There's someone in the hall who needs to talk to you, about God knows what..." Mrs Yves turned back to the chalkboard.

I got up and headed for the door. Outside was a short, mousy-haired girl with acne and braces but giant jugs. I wondered what she wanted from me. A blowjob would be cool, but that option was about the least of all things that could happen, coming in last right after "struck by lightning" and "eaten by cannibals."

"You're Sid, right?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

She had a bossy and rather nasally voice.

"In the flesh. You know, you're a goddess for getting me out of that damned class. So what do you need?" I thought maybe she wanted a hook-up for weed or something.

"You played in the talent show, right?"

Well, I wasn't expecting that.

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"We want a live band for prom, but the senior class is a bunch of lazy fucks who have no class money to pay for shit, so we have to do things on the fly. Does your band want to play at prom or not?"

"Why would we want to waste our night doing that? That's a perfectly good Saturday I could spend doing something better."

"We'll pay you five hundred dollars total to do it. You will be allowed to take a reasonable number of breaks and exit the building, unlike the rest of the students who will be kept there so no alcohol other than what has previously been ingested and smuggled in will be able to be imbibed. A fairly blind eye will be turned to your antics," the girl explained.

"A tempting offer," I stroked my stubbly chin. I hadn't had time to shave this morning.

"We will provide band geeks at your request to allow you to play a broader range of music."

"Good geeks or those weirdos who somehow lucked into getting third chair?"

"Good geeks. We also got an A/V nerd to handle the sound system and DJ when you're on your breaks."

"Well, I'll have to talk to the rest of the guys about it, but I'll get back to you."

"Do it within a week. I'm the head of the prom committee, give me a call when you decide," she said, thrusting a square of paper into my hand.

Then she turned on her heel and walked off. I guess she was trying to be as business-like as possible, but she just came off as bossy and rude. What a bitch.

I opened up the paper in my hands: Darla, (347) 555-8622. I barely suppressed a laugh. Who names their kid _Darla_? It's like darling cut short or something.

For a minute or two I entertained the idea of cutting the rest of Biology, but then I remembered that I had left my bag in the class room, so I would have to go back and get it anyway. Besides, there was only about ten minutes left of class. I suppose I could pretend to be a good student and suffer through it.

–

"So I have a proposition for you all," I drew my hands together in a Mr Burns-esque fashion.

My main group of friends and I were all hanging out in Harold's attic, for one of supposed practices. In reality, we had all just blazed and I remembered that I still needed to call Darla. So I figured I would just ask them now, while we were all gathered in one place and still relatively focused.

"Some bitch on the prom committee asked me if our band would play at prom. We would get five hundred dollars and a," I suppressed a chuckle, "a 'reasonable' number of breaks where we could leave the premise, y'know, to go blaze or something. And we would get a blind eye turned to our antics."

"What?" Harold's voice has a whining tone, like usual. "Like I want to spend my Saturday playing pop songs for a bunch of teenage morons."

"You hang out with a bunch of teenage morons, Harold," Allen snarked.

"That's different. You guys may be morons, but you're my morons. People at prom would just be morons who think they're cool because their dad let them drive his BMW and they jacked some Smirnoff from their mommy."

"So? We would jack some acky-al anyway because there's no way I would play sober," I laughed. "What's the problem? We'd each get a hundred twenty-five and a chance to play, I think it'd be cool, and besides it wouldn't be like we would be doing anything special on prom night any ways."

"I'm cool with it, then I wouldn't have to bother trying to find a date," Allen shrugged.

"Ya'll need to calm yourself down, Harold, 's just prom," Stinky fiddled with his cigarette.

Harold frowned and crossed his arms, "Fine, we'll play at prom, but it doesn't mean I'll enjoy it."

Now that everyone was okay with it, I decided I would call Darla before I forgot. After fishing around in my wallet for the piece of paper with her number on it, I brought out my phone and dialled. For a second I thought that the call would go to voicemail, but someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Darla-ing, it's Sid," I said.

"It's Darla," she huffed. "So, yes or no?"

"Yeah, we'll play."

"Good. Prom starts at nine thirty pm, so I expect you to be there at least two hours early to set up. I'll give you a set list in March sometime."

"What? You're shitting me, we don't get to make our own set list?"

"I'm serious. I don't trust your choice in music. People are already mad enough we're not hiring a DJ to blast Rhiana and Lady GaGa, and you can't really bump and grind to Black Sabbath."

"Fine, whatever," I said. I was kind of pissed about that, knowing I'd be reduced to playing some sappy softcore alternative pop rock.

"I hope you don't screw this up," Darla said.

"Well, you're the one who asked me to do it, baby."

"Don't call my baby either. I'll give you the set list soon. Bye," Darla hung up.

"We don't get to pick what we play. The motherfucking prom committee is doing it," I said to everyone one I had shut my phone.

There was a large collective groan and I'm sure at that moment everyone regretted agreeing to play. But hey, maybe it would boost my status as school and start getting me chicks. That would be cool.

–

"OneRepublic... Snow Patrol, Nickelback? You're trying to kill me! Make my music sense shrivel up and die!" I moaned to Darla.

She had just handed me the set list and I had glanced it over, my inner rocker dying a little more with each band name I saw. There were a few good ones interspersed in there, but they were few and far between. Enough to make me know that I would have to be pretty smashed to enjoy that night.

"Deal with it. And don't even think about adding your own songs in there."

"I wouldn't, Darla-ing," I promised with my fingers crossed behind my back.

"Don't call me that."

I gave her a wink and turned to Allen as Darla walked away.

"Look at this!" I brandished the stack of papers at Allen.

"I can't read it unless you hold it still, dumbass," Allen grabbed them away from me and was silent for a few seconds as he read it. "Wow, I see what you mean. And I even like more of the bands on here than you."

"I have an idea."

"Wonderful."

"No! No, it's good. See, we play most of the annoying stuff, but when we come to a really dumb song, we switch it out with some delicious rock. You Belong with Me? Gone, to be replaced by We're not Gonna Take It. We're not adding songs, we're replacing songs."

"You are such a dumbass!"

I rolled my eyes, "I know, I'm so evil for wanting to play _good_ music."

–

"Helga, I need a favour from you," I said to Helga as we stood out on the fire escape smoking.

"I'm not blowing you," she said.

"Even though that would be fantastic, no, I need you to come over this Saturday and listen to my band go through the set list we're going to be playing at prom. I know you'll tell us straight up if we suck."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because it would be nice? It would help the band sound better at prom so people don't hate us?"

"I suppose, if I have to listen to you the whole damn time," Helga rolled her eyes.

"You're going to prom?"

"Stag with a friend who doesn't go here. I'm going this year so I can skip it next year and all the fucking sappy 'boo-hoo we're going to college and won't see each other again' shit. High school doesn't matter for shit."

"Good mentality. I just don't want to do it all, it's a waste of time, all, 'oh, did you make the reservation yet even though it's February? Does my dress match your tux? Oh, our group isn't big enough to rent a party bus, I feel sooooo depressed,' and all that dumb shit. What a load of bull."

"Nice cover for the fact that you couldn't actually get a date even if you wanted to."

"You're such a bitch," I said, only half joking.

"Don't you forget it," Helga snubbed out her cigarette.

–

"Sweet cherry pie, yeah! Swing it!" I took a step back and wiped some sweat off my brow as we finished the song. The original last song had been Taylor Swift's Love Story, but we had figured Warrant's Cherry Pie would be a more fitting end to prom.

I was exceedingly glad that prom was next weekend. I was about sick of all the songs after practising them every single day and every weekend with the guys and the band geeks that would be playing with us. Some of them were great songs, yeah, but Jesus H. Christ, if I had to hear All the Right Moves one more time, I would die. Just lay right down and die, to borrow a Stinky-ism.

"Well, you don't suck," was all Helga to say.

"Tha's all?" Stinky said, rather dumbfounded as we started cleaning up.

"I'm not amazed, but I don't want to go up there and strangle you with a piano string."

"I think you should take the compliment, Stinky," I said, getting my guitar in its case.

"Thank you," Helga rolled her eyes at me, then pulled out her cigarettes and lit up. "I'm surprised that the prom committee is actually playing mostly decent music."

We all let out snorts of derisive laughter. I guess I had forgotten to let Helga in on our little secret. No time like the present, I guess.

"They're not. We took action into our own hands," Harold grabbed the revised set list and handed it to Helga.

Helga smirked and let out a little laugh, "Wow, surprising. Have fun dealing with the rabid trixies on the committee when instead of You Belong with Me, they hear Twisted Sister. You're depriving them of ridiculously awkward slow dances with their jock boyfriends."

"Boo hoo, their life is ruined forever!" Allen mocked. "We're still playing Nickelback... that's bad enough."

"Well, whatever, it's not like they're going to get that mad at us," Harold crossed his arms.

Helga stood up and put on her jacket, "I'd love to stay and chat, fellas, but I've got to go. See you Saturday," she said and left.

That was surprisingly civil. I was impressed.

–

"What are you up to tonight, Sid?" Dad asked me the morning of prom.

We were eating breakfast together, right before Dad left to go work.

"Oh, um," I suddenly realized I forgot to tell him I was playing tonight, "I'm going out with the guys. We're playing at prom."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner, Sid? I would have stopped by and saw you," Dad looked a little mad.

"I forgot?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"How do you forget something like that? Oh, are you going with a girl? Do you not want me to see you with a girl?"

"Dad, I'm not going with anybody. I'm going to be playing all night. It goes until midnight, if you want to stop by and see me," I said. I kind of hoped he wouldn't, because I planned on stealing a pair of leather pants I had found in the back of his closet.

"All right, but I'm going to be out tonight after work, so I don't know if I'll get a chance to stop by and see you," Dad finished his coffee before getting up and putting his plates in the sink.

That's completely fine, I thought. Once Dad had left, I went upstairs and nicked the pants. I didn't really want to know _why_ my dad owned leather pants, but either way, they looked damn good on me. If I didn't get ass tonight, I was going to be disappointed.

I threw the clothes I was going to wear tonight into a duffel bag and got all my equipment ready to go: guitar, amps, pedals, microphone, everything I needed. After that, I went and stole some alcohol from Dad, some hard stuff and a beer for the four of us.

After that, I sat around killing time watching tv until I heard the rumble of a car engine in the drive way. My cell phone rang; I picked it up.

"Harold, I heard your car. You don't need to call me, trust me, now get your ass in here and help me load up my stuff."

The door opened and Harold walked in, dressed in sweats and a muscle shirt. I hope he wasn't wearing that during prom. He must have seen the look on my face.

"I'm not wearing this tonight, you know I sweat like a fat kid walking around the block. Now where's your shit?"

"'S upstairs," I said. "Are we meeting Stinky and Allen at the place?"

"The hotel? Yeah. Have you seen it? Fuckin' nice, it's ridiculous."

"Sweet, well, let's get goin'," I said.

We loaded everything up in Harold's car, it was pretty crowded with his drum kit crammed in there too. It was about a half-hour drive to the heart of downtown, but we hit traffic, so it took us about forty-five minutes to get there. We spent most of the time smoking cigs and listening to Drake. It was a good time.

When we finally got to the hotel, Stinky and Allen were standing across the street having a smoke. Harold managed to parallel park fairly well considering he drove a big ass station wagon. Stinky and Allen stamped out their cigarettes and crossed the street to help us unload.

"What took ya'll so long?" Stinky asked.

"Traffic. It's a bitch," Harold grunted as he picked up an amp.

We lugged everything inside and went through the laborious process of setting up and doing sound check after sound check. Once we were satisfied that everything sounded okay, it was nearly nine thirty, so we were ushered out of the ball room where prom was taking place.

We headed to the bathroom and cleaned ourselves up. I was rather enjoying the fact that I could dress up and not be in a tux like every other doofus.

I felt pretty good about myself. The leather pants were tight, but not tight enough that I wouldn't be able to have kids. I had on some kick-ass biker boots, a grey button up left a little unbuttoned, black vest, and red tie all loosened up. I decided I needed to be a little bit more badass, so I had some spiked bracelets on. There wasn't very much occasion for me to wear them, but today felt like a good day for spikes.

Allen looked more metrosexual than usual in shredded jeans, vans, a striped shirt, and a military style jacket. Stinky did his country roots proud with work-worn, boot cut jeans, cowboy boots, and a flannel. Harold, I couldn't tell what he was doing. He had on a muscle shirt and saggy shorts that showed off his boxers. It was like he was going for slob and gangster at the same time. Who cared, he was the drummer and he'd be behind the drum kit all the time anyway.

"Man, Sid, those jeans..." Harold started. "Thank god you're the singer and I don't have to stare at your junk all night."

"Why would you be staring at my junk? You'd have to be deliberately looking down to do that," I raised my eyebrows at him. "Yo, let's celebrate. Junior year's almost over."

I pulled out a coke bottle that really was mixed with rum. It was passed around until it was empty and we were feeling the buzz. Then Allen thought to check his phone and saw that it was nine forty-five.

"Let's go!"

–

"Where have you been? You're fifteen minutes late!" Darla strode up to us.

She looked a lot different all hussied up for prom. Her acne was obviously hidden under a thick layer of foundation and the dress she chose made her jugs look amazing. If she wasn't such a bitch I might have asked her to prom. Because the one girl I really wanted to ask would never go with me.

"Hey, maybe if the sound system in this place didn't suck so much, we wouldn't have had to spend so long setting up," Harold told her.

"What he said. Want us to go up there and start playing? There's like, five people here. Get the geek to dj until ten, and come outside with us, Darla-ing," I said, letting the alcohol do the talking.

Darla looked at us blankly for a few seconds before going, "Only if there's alcohol."

"Plenty, ma'am," Stinky said.

"Good, because this prom has been a disaster. The senior class hates us."

We all left together, walking to Harold's car, which had been moved to a street less likely to give him a parking ticket. Harold brought out a fifth of vodka from a bag in the back, which was subsequently passed around. Darla drank quite a lot.

"Jesus, slow down, you're like a girl, and tiny, aside from your boobs," I took the bottle from her. "Prom can't be that bad. It's just a dumb dance."

"I hate my boobs. They hurt my back and I even got them reduced."

"Okay, no more for you, miss," Stinky patted Darla's shoulder.

"Okay, can we go back inside? You guys should probably start playing like really soon!"

"Yeah, have a cig first," I passed one to her.

"I don't smoke," Darla shook her head and pushed my hand away.

"You want to go back in smelling like you've been drinking?"

"No," Darla took the cigarette, sticking it in her mouth and looking unsure. "My dress will stink. My hair will stink."

"It'll have time to air out a little, and then perfume will cover it up," Allen told her.

Stinky brought out his zippo and lit her cig for her, ever the gentleman. Darla coughed and choked on her first drag. Stinky started to coach her on how to smoke, and then began showing off by blowing smoke rings and doing French inhales and shit that nobody really cares about.

"Hey, c'mon, lets go and play, we've been out here too long," I said, starting to get anxious.

"Yeah, let's go," Allen got out of the car.

We all walked back, putting out our cigarettes when we approached the hotel. I was worried for Darla getting in, but she got back in with no problem. Well, except for stumbling a little in her high heels. She wandered off to find someone while we made our way toward the corner where our things were set up.

There were more people now, enough to hold a proper dance. Darla and somebody else she must have known made their way up to the stage. They got behind the microphone and adjusted it, I would punch— no, that wouldn't be right— I would glare at her if she messed it up.

"Hi!" Darla said, in a much brighter and cheerier voice than usual.

I couldn't tell if was because she was belligerent or because she was speaking to a crowd. It was probably both.

"Welcome to prom! We have a really good night set up for you guys! We've got a live band, with members from our very own student body," she said.

Her friend hissed at us, asking what the name of our band was. We looked at each other and shrugged, until Stinky whispered back, "We're four guys who know each other and play together."

"So, enjoy the music, we have refreshments everywhere, and we crown the prom king and queen at eleven, please vote! Also, don't forget to come to the after party at the school, we will be giving away lots of prizes. Please remember that once you leave prom, you won't be able to come back in, and other than that, have fun! Now, get ready for," Darla's face furrowed, like she couldn't believe she had waited this long to ask the name of our band, "Four Guys Who Know Each Other and Play Together."

She walked off the stage lamely with her friend. We all walked onto it and got ready with our respective instruments. I raised the microphone until it was at a comfortable height, then waved at the crowd of students who were clustered into little groups, looking bored.

"So we're not really named that. We just don't have a name. You could name us, or something. Whatever, let's get the party started!" I said, nodded at Allen and Stinky.

Allen grinned and struck the first chord, letting the somewhat memorable riff of Nickelback's Burn It to the Ground blast out of the speakers. Seconds later, Harold joined in on the drums, and in a minute, I was singing, "Well it's midnight, damn right, we're wound up too tight!"

After the first few songs, we started to loosen up and play around more on stage, letting memory take over as we played our instruments. I especially fucked around when we played high-energy songs, milking my teenage sex appeal for all it was worth.

When we had gone through about a third of the set list, I gave the crowd a wave.

"So, we're gonna take a break and let you guys listen to some music you actually like. PS, we didn't choose the songs we're playing!" I added in.

When we trooped off the stage, Darla found us immediately.

"What do you mean you didn't choose the songs you're playing? You're not following the set list!"

"Yeah, baby, we're doing something more fun, trust us. Did people look like they were enjoying it? They did, didn't they, Stinky?"

"Yup."

"Whatever," Darla rolled her eyes and walked away.

No one else wanted a cigarette, they all dispersed on to the dance floor. I figured I might as well join them. An annoying song with a good beat came on, so I found a cute girl without one of those flower bracelets and danced with her. Boy, could she move. Like wow.

"Those jeans are really tight," she laughed as she danced.

"You're the reason they're so tight," I let the alcohol do the talking again.

She laughed and acted like I didn't just say that to her, "You're a good singer. And a good guitar player. Do you want to come with me and my friends after this? We're getting fucked up."

"Whatever you say, where you heading?"

She gave me the address and I put it in my phone. The song changed and I moved along in the crowd. Being a musician has fantastic perks, I was getting invited to parties left and right. I was getting so fucked up tonight. It was going to be awesome.

Suddenly I spotted a pink dress and blond hair. Of course, that was a lot of girls on the dance floor, but I was pretty sure it was Helga. And it was. She was standing around with a short Asian girl in a powder blue dress.

I sort of stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Helga. While everyone else was wearing short dresses to the point of sluttiness, or huge poufy, sparkly dresses, she was wearing an understated pale pink dress. It was strapless and right under her bust was a darker pink ribbon tied in a bow. Her hair was down for once and wavey, part of it covering her eyes.

"Hey, Helga!" I said, voice a little higher than I wanted it.

"Dick nose, hi," Helga said.

I grimaced, "Dick nose, really? Who's your friend?"

"Phoebe," the girl held out her hand.

"Sid," I shook it.

"You know, I think we were in grade school together," Phoebe said.

"Yeah, you look kind of familiar," I said. "So what are you guys doing after this?"

"We're going to Phoebe's and going to sleep," Helga said.

"That's boring. Come party with me," I said, thrusting my hips a little.

"Gee, sure, I'd love to hang out with a horny male while wearing a low-cut dress, consuming alcohol, and dancing seductively," Helga rolled her eyes.

"You're no fun, besides, I don't think I could handle you in bed anyway," I said. "On that note, I would like to compliment you, you look really nice tonight. Not that you don't look nice usually, but it's that kind of nice you look when you're all dressed up."

"I think you should have shut up when you were ahead, which was before you opened your mouth," Helga said.

I shrugged, "I'll leave you alone now, got to go round up the other guys so we can play again, see ya, Helga."

After giving her a wave, I rounded up Allen, Stinky, and Harold. We gave the DJ, a dorky looking blond kid who wheezed a signal that I hoped conveyed we were going up and playing again.

Once we were back on stage again, I felt right.

"Okay, let's play a slow song, so you can all rotate slowly in circles with your sweetie," I laughed.

We played Aerosmith's Don't Want to Miss a Thing. Half the dance floor cleared out as people who didn't have dates hauled ass out of there. I was half relieved that Helga got off the dance floor. I shook my head a little, figuring I should try and get her out of my head.

Once the slow song was over, we moved on to playing some chill music, Modest Mouse's Float On. Afterwards, we played some Green Day, Boys Like Girls, Queen, and Panic! At the Disco. As a joke, we had also decided to play some Mötely Crüe. It was a lot of fun to watch people's expressions as I went, "Girls, girls girls!"

I was also pretty glad that Dad didn't walk in when I was singing that. He came in about ten thirty with some under dressed chick clinging to his arm. He gave me a wave, but I didn't acknowledge him. I just kept on playing.

He stuck around for a little while, but left after about five songs, just in time for the crowning. We took the opportunity to go outside and smoke.

"Fuck, I'm so glad we did this," Allen said, "because holy fuck, so many parties!"

"Did ya get invited to any good ones?" Stinky asked.

"Um, Aaron McIntyre, he always throws those things where someone gets arrested," Allen said.

"Dude, he's a douchebag, I got invited to Jeanne Gardino's, we should go to Aaron's and then her's before shit goes down at Aaron's," I said.

"And then Trevor Van de Voort's because his go all night long, or so I've heard," Allen said.

"We should invite Darla-ing along," I said.

"Are you trying to get with her?" Harold asked.

"Maybe, I mean, Jesus Christ, her chest. Even if she doesn't come, it's prom night. It's like... law to have sex."

"Sid, you're kinder fucked up already, I don' think you should be havin' any more alcohol tonight," Stinky said.

"Oh come on, I'm sobering up."

"Well, I'm not babysitting him all night," Harold said, taking one last drag on his cig before tossing it into the street.

I refrained from rolling my eyes, "Let's head back in and finish this shindig up."

I was glad that the night was nearing the end. My voice was starting to give, so it was a relief knowing I didn't have that many more songs left to sing. We played a few more slow songs, and some peppy, upbeat songs people could dance to.

The crowd started to thin out after that, so I gave the boys a nod signalling that we should finish up. Once we ended the song we were playing, I rolled up my sleeves and stepped back up to the mic.

"Well, things are winding down, so we're going to play one last song, hope prom night will be good to you!" I said.

As we started the song, most people didn't recognize it, but as soon as I started singing, "She's my cherry pie," people started laughing at the fact that we chose to end prom with an over-the-top glam rock song. I couldn't help but think of Helga as I played, because still... hot damn.

We finished the song to cheering from the crowd that was left.

"Awesome! Thanks for letting us play!" I said, not really sure what else I should say.

People kept clapping as we started to pack up all our stuff. The DJ put on some music, but everyone was starting to leave, probably because they all wanted to go get shitfaced, which I did too. We packed up our stuff as fast as we could, but by the time it was all said and done, it was close to one am and we were sober again.

"Let's go party!" I shouted as soon as we were outside, walking to our cars.

We all let out whoops and ran to our cars. Harold turned on the stereo and cranked the volume, blasting Far East Movement. I was super excited, I hadn't party partied in a while and I was looking forward to it. Harold made a quick stop at some ghetto-ass liquor store.

"I got some Cap'n!" he announced as soon as he was back in the car.

"I'm only drinking that if you got some Coke to go with it, I can't do shots of rum. Is there anything left of that fifth?"

"That's me and tequila. No Coke, sorry man, but there should be some left, it's stuffed in the glove box right now."

"Sweet," I pulled it out and took a swig.

It was so cheap it burned like fire going down and I could still feel it burning in my stomach five minutes later. Even subsequently becoming intoxicated couldn't fix the fact that it was shitty ass vodka.

"Y'know, some of my buddies at college, they left that vodka in like, plastic cups overnight. When they woke up in the morning, it had eaten through the cups."

"Dude, don't tell me that," I screwed the top back on the nearly-empty bottle and stuck it back in the glove box. "So where we headin? Aaron McIntyre?"

"That's what we said, but I don't know where the fuck lives, so..." Harold shrugged.

"I'll call Allen, maybe he knows," I said, attempting to extract my phone from my pocket with out looking dumb. I failed, it was a right battle trying to get the damn thing out of my pocket. I dialled Allen's number and waited for him to pick up. When he did, I said, "Yo, where does McIntyre live?"

"Um... fuh... I dunno," Allen said slowly, "What were you asking?"

"Where Aaron McIntyre lives, you fuck," I said.

There was some muffled voices like Allen was holding the phone away from his face and then, "I think... he lives like, um, fuck, Redmond Street, y'know, the rich place thing in town, where all the rich people live 'nnn stuff."

"Okay, and don't try talking again. You sound like a dumbass," I told him before hanging up.

"Where are we going?" Harold asked.

"'The rich place thing in town,'" I mocked, "Allen said Redmond street but he's fucked up, so who knows if that's right."

"Might as well try," Harold shrugged and turned to get on the interstate.

–

Eventually, following a trail of red plastic cups, we were able to find McIntyre's house. Harold parked a few streets away in a quiet area far away from the crazy sounding house. The house was absolutely ridiculous, I was surprised that it hadn't been busted yet. People were all out on the lawn, stumbling all over the place and making out. A thumping bass line was coming out of the house.

"Wicked awesome, man," I said to Harold as we passed three girls grinding on each other.

Harold grinned and we walked up to the door. It was unlocked, so Harold pushed it open, knocking over a couple of drunk girls doing God-knows-what right by the door. I looked around for McIntyre, but I didn't see him.

"Hey, bro, where do we get cups?" I asked a random guy still in his tux.

"Um, over in the kitchen. It's five bucks," he said.

"Cool, thanks," I nodded at him, then pushed my way through the crowd to the kitchen.

McIntyre was there, holding stacks of plastic cups. His face lit up with that drunk excitement and he ran over to us.

"Gifaldi! Bro, you was sick tonight... but, dude, I can't take you seriously in those pants. But you drinkin' fo' free tonight!" he babbled.

"Bitches love the pants. I'm advertising," I said with a completely straight face. "You got shots? Harold, let's do shots."

"Shots!" McIntyre bellowed. "Let's do shots! Hell yeah!"

Soon, a crowd of people had surrounded the island in the kitchen. A huge line of shot glasses and plastic cups acting as shot glasses stretched from end to end. McIntyre pulled out a bottle of Bacardi and shouted as he ran the bottle along the line of glasses.

Everyone grabbed their glass and lifted it up, clinking it with a few people before they downed their shot. I took mine down like a champ, keeping my face completely straight, but I grabbed a can of Red Bull nearby to get the taste out of my mouth.

Harold winced as he took his shot, and several of the girls couldn't take it all at once. McIntyre screwed his eye shut then opened them again and shook his head, going, "Whoo!"

"Hey, c'mon, let's go again!" I said, putting my shot glass back down.

Harold put his next to mine and soon there was a long line of glasses again. McIntyre smirked and ran the bottle along the line again, splashing liquor all over the counter top. We lifted our glasses and downed our shots. This time I winced as it burned down my throat.

After another shot, I knew I was done because I was starting to feel very drunk. I begged Harold to go find Allen, but we couldn't find him and he wouldn't pick up his phone, so I made my way to the living room, where the lights were off and there was a black light on and people were dancing.

I made my way into the crowd and began to dance. Harold didn't come in, I caught him hanging by the staircase and chatting to some bro-douchebag looking guys. Musicians definitely had fantastic perks, girls kept coming up to me and dancing with me, which by dancing, I mean grinding their sweet asses on me (not to sound like a horny teenage boy or anything).

The girl I was dancing with was an absolute firecracker, she knew how to move her body. I put my hands on her thighs and tried to move with her, but it was hard to keep up. She put her hand on top of mine and slid it up, oh God, she didn't have underwear on under that skirt—

"GET THE FUCK OUT! GO OUT THE BASEMENT SLOWLY! COPS!" someone shouted.

Everyone started to panic. The girl I was dancing with bolted, probably to go find her friends. I didn't give a shit about Harold or Stinky or Allen, I was going to save my own ass. Along with everyone else, I found my way into the basement and poured out the French doors that lead to a patio.

True enough, I could hear the sirens now, and there was red and blue lights flashing on the fence.

Once I had a clear enough shot, I bolted, running past girls getting their heels stuck in the grass and guys trying to help them. I scaled the fence and ran through the other yard until I was on a street again, then made my way to Harold's car.

While waiting for Harold I chained seven cigarettes then subsequently puked everywhere. I was too drunk to really care about it, so I wiped my mouth off and sat down on the ground, hanging my head between my knees while the world spun.

"Hey, wake the fuck up," Harold's voice said while his shoe prodded my side.

"'M awake, jus' too drunk. What kept you?" I tried to get to my feet but fell back on my ass.

Harold pulled me up with a strong hand and said, "The cops stopped me like a block from the party. I am such a motherfuckin' smooth talker when I'm drunk."

"You're twenty-one. I wish I was twenty-one. I would be drunk all the time."

"Well, you're not twenty-one, so get in the car and don't throw up."

Once we were in the car, I rolled down the window and laid my head down on my arms. The cool air helped me sober up a little, and the world wasn't spinning as much.

"That was fuckin' Bacardi 151, you know that? No wonder you threw up," Harold told me.

"Jesus," I mumbled, still too drunk to really pay any attention to anything other than the fact that I was really, really drunk. I wasn't going to remember _any_ of this in the morning.

"Do you still want to go to another party?"

"Yeah, jus' don' let me touch a drink..."

–

"Fucking... god," I closed my eyes again as soon as I opened them. I really felt like shit.

I had to open them again to see where I was though. My room. Wow, how the hell did I end up back here? I sighed and dragged myself out of bed, then went to the bathroom and pissed for like five straight minutes. Then I chugged a bunch of water and took four ibuprofen. The water helped me feel a little bit better.

My phone said it was nine am, which made me groan. I always woke up early when I drank. Maybe Dad wouldn't be up.

But he was. And so was his date from last night. There was a third person I didn't know at the kitchen table too. She was talking to Dad and his date, then turned around and smiled at me. Oh, thank god it wasn't anybody I knew well, just a girl who was in a class or two of mine.

"Good night last night, Sid?" Dad asked sounding playful, but I could tell he was pissed.

Boy, as soon as those girls left, I would be in for the chewing out of a lifetime. I would probably be grounded until I was, like, fifty. God, I shouldn't have drank so much last night. How did I even get home, and how did I end up with that girl? Fuck, I couldn't even remember anything after doing shots at McIntyre's.

"You could say it was all right," I gave a smile that probably looked more like a grimace and sat down next to the girl.

"By the way, I thought I would let you know, those pants you wore last night are your mom's," Dad added, taking a sip of his coffee.

–

Wow, this one covers a lot (time skip to late April, yay!). And I think this is the one that might up it to an M, considering the massive amount of teenage debauchery going on in here (let me know if you think it should be changed). Also, I never went to parties until college, so I honestly have no clue what high school parties are like.

I will be moving on to more Sid/Helga action soon.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm disturbing the sacred A/H peace here, but it just seems to me that there has already been so much A/H written, I wouldn't be able to do anything very original or meaningful. I feel like all the aspects of A/H has been explored, and even though I enjoy a good A/H piece, I just get sick of it sometimes, lol.

Also, new Firebird illustraion, link is in my profile!


	8. Chapter 8

"Sid, let's talk," Dad said the moment he walked back in the door.

He had just gotten back from dropping off the girl I was with the night before. Her name apparently was Sonia, and I had found her around five in the morning at some party. It still didn't explain how I had three mailboxes in my room. But Dad had taken her home and I figured that I wouldn't have to ever talk to her again.

It's not that she was bad looking or anything, I just really wished I remembered doing her. Apparently I was pretty good, judging from what she said.

"About what?" I asked, playing innocent.

"You know about what. About how you stole alcohol from me, drank enough that you could have died last night, and the fact that you had sex with a drunk girl."

"We didn't have sex," I blatantly lied.

"She looks like a fucking leper, Sid! Were you thinking you were a vampire or what?" Dad crossed his arms, then tossed his keys on the counter and lit up a cigarette. "Why don't you light up too? Go ahead, have a smoke."

I let out a sigh and rubbed my forehead. Jesus Christ, maybe I wasn't as sneaky as I thought. I obviously wasn't. Dad slid the pack over to me, so I pulled out one and borrowed his lighter, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Why was I so dumb? I was going to be grounded for the rest of my life and reduced to living like I was in the stone age.

"I've known you smoked for a long time. Why'd you take it back up?" Dad asked.

"Dunno," I shrugged, waiting for the berating.

"Look, cigarettes and alcohol, it's forbidden fruit right now but it won't be so great when you're old enough. I don't want you smoking because I don't want you to ever be addicted to something. I haven't set the best example for you, but know that I hate myself because I smoke," Dad said, then let out a sigh. "But what I really want to talk to you about is what you did last night. I don't care how drunk you were, you _never_ take advantage of a girl who's drunk. Never. It doesn't matter if she seems like she's going along with it, or enjoying it, she's not in her right mind."

"Dad," I started, but he cut me off.

"You're lucky that she looked okay with it. A lot of people can't handle one night stands."

You seem to find all the ones in the fucking city that are, I thought.

"Did you use protection?"

Oh my God. I was not having this conversation with my old man! I was just going to lay right down and die. Just curl up and die. Seriously. I'd rather die before having a candid discussion about my sex life or lack thereof with my old man.

"I don't remember, probably," I said, shrugging and taking a big, deep drag on my cigarette.

"I'm not going to babysit you, Sid, if you get yourself into trouble because of this... and I'm leaving it up to you if you believe you should get tested or not."

"It was just sex, Dad, and I don't think she's a slut," I rubbed my forehead.

"One time is all it takes to get something, Sid. All I want you to do is be safe."

"I will, Dad, I'll use a condom."

Dad let out a snort that sounded derisive, "Now, about your punishment... no more weed for you, and I want you to hand over your atm card. You're not accessing your bank account for the rest of the school year."

"What? Just because I had sex?" my mouth dropped open.

"No, because not only did you take up smoking again, you took alcohol from me, drank under aged, and somehow _stole_ three mailboxes. This bud is mine," Dad said, pulling out my bag of weed from his coat pocket and dangling it in front of my face.

I just groaned and laid my head down on the table.

–

"You are the best person in the world. I could kiss you, seriously," I said to Helga as I lit up the cig she had bummed me.

"Ugh, don't. I could live my whole life without being kissed by you," Helga put her hand up and made a motion like she was pushing me away. "So, three mailboxes, huh? You don't remember how you got them?"

"Nope, completely blank. The last thing I remember is doing shots at McIntyre's."

"Then you don't remember the gorgeous little voicemail you left me?"

I swear to God that my heart stopped beating. Voicemail? Oh, Jesus, who knows what sort of shit I said to her at like four am blackout drunk!

"No... what did I say?" I asked tentatively, taking a few quick drags of my cigarette.

Helga pulled out her phone (I almost laughed at the fact that it was pink), then tapped on it for a few seconds before thrusting it at my ear. I rearranged myself so that I could hold the phone with my right hand. After some fumbling sounds coming out of the phone, I heard my voice (albeit my very drunk voice).

"Hey... c'mon, I know it's late but you gotta pick up! I've got something to tell you, it's, like, super important. I swear, you gotta, hafta listen to me when I say this 'cuz it's one _hundred_ percent true, completely true, I swear, okay? Okay, okay, well, I think I might just say it over here, I want to say it to you in person but I've got to tell you right now and you won't pick up your phone! I love you! I love you, even though I don't know what the hell I'm thinking, I love you despite the fact that you're a cold-hearted bitch. Well, you're kinda nice sometimes when you decide to be... nice, but I don't care! I love you anyway... No, Harold! No, I'm not done on the phone... gimme that bac—"

As the message went on, my face grew redder and redder until the message was over and I was on par with a tomato. When it was done, I snapped the phone shut and gave it back to Helga. I took a neat drag on my cig, then exhaled, trying to look like I didn't care.

"Wow, I must have drank a lot," I tried to laugh. "I must have thought I was calling one of those girls I fuck around with."

"Yeah, quite a lot," Helga rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you have a whole harem at your disposal."

My cheeks were still burning. Why the hell did I say that? Showing off to Helga wouldn't work at all, because that stuff doesn't impress her. It just made me look like a stereotypical sex-crazy jerk. God, I was so stupid. I would never get her, not if I kept dicking around like I do. But Goddamnit, I wasn't about to change everything about myself just to bang her.

We were quiet for a few seconds until the door was timidly pushed open. Sonia appeared, looking demure. She gave me a half smile and let the door close quietly behind her. Helga rolled her eyes and mutter something about no privacy any more. I swallowed and wondered what the hell she wanted. Maybe Dad was right and she had chlamydiae! Oh God, I had chlamydiae and I was going to die!

"Hi, Allen told me you'd be out here. Sid, can we talk?" Sonia asked, her arms crossed.

"Fucking A, I'll leave you and one of your harem alone to talk," Helga chucked her cigarette at the wall and stalked inside.

"Harem?" Sonia looked confused.

"An inside joke," I rubbed the back of my neck, still red in the face. "So what's up, Sonia?"

"I'm just wondering about Saturday... what it means. You're an all right guy, Sid, and I just thought you would have a little more class than loving and leaving me."

For once, Dad had been right. What a fantastic thing to be right about. At least I didn't have an STD. Hooray for the small things, I suppose.

"Sonia... I don't know what to tell you, I don't remember it at all, so it's like it never happened for me. I don't want to say it was a mistake, but I wouldn't have tried to sleep with you unless I was... y'know, smashed. I don't think it means anything to me. We can be friends, but I really don't want a girlfriend right now."

Sonia let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, "That's what I thought... I guess I just thought, we really hit it off when we were talking," she shook her head, "whatever, it's cool, I get it. I'll see you around, Sid."

Sonia turned around swiftly and yanked the door open, leaving as abruptly as possible. I just sort of stood there like the stunned guy I was. See, I was too stunned to even make a good analogy. Once she was gone, Helga stepped back out and silently handed me a cigarette.

"Were you eavesdropping?" I asked her, making an awkward face at her sudden appearance.

"Girls just don't _walk_ right up to you and start up a conversation. You're Sid Gifaldi."

"Gee, thanks, for a second I forgot who I was."

"Don't be such a smart ass, I will take that cigarette out of your mouth."

"What happened to you, Helga? Did you get abducted by aliens or something? You're being nicer than normal lately."

"Oh, so it's a problem I decided you're not a slimy bastard?"

"No, not really, I just wanted to know if I was living in bizarro world or something. For posterity reasons."

"Do you even know what that word means?"

I shrugged, "I thought it sounded smart. But seriously, why were you eavesdropping on me?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, dick nose. I was waiting to go back out so I could have another cig. Of course the door's open, so I heard. No big deal. It's not like I'm vindictive enough to tell the whole school you're a manwhore— I could of course— but I'm not."

"Wow, you're _so_ generous. And I don't think sex with one girl qualifies as manwhore status. It was after a dry spell of two years!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, I don't give a shit about your sex life," Helga held up her hand as she took a precarious seat on the railing.

I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she was willingly talking to me as of late. It was strange and odd, but not unwelcome. It was oddly fun just to snark back and forth, like a game of who could out-snark the other. A snark contest of which neither of us would probably ever win. But I entertained the idea that I could out-snark her if I really tried.

I don't think I would ever stop marvelling at her personality, she was so much more lively and passionate about everything than any other girl I had ever met. She was rude and brusque and upfront, but you knew exactly how she felt. She wore her heart on her sleeve, as much as I believed she thought she didn't. When someone felt things as strongly as she did, it was impossible to hide.

"Earth to Gifaldi," I blinked to pink nail polished fingers snapping my face.

"Sorry, I spaced, what's it?"

"I was asking if you really did just willingly turn down the chance at having a girlfriend."

I shrugged, "You make it sound like I'm a horny bastard. I'm only that about fifty percent of the time. I guess I did though. She seemed nice, but I just didn't want to date her."

"Because you 'love' someone else, if that drunk phone call is anything to go by," Helga looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"If you're insinuating that I love you, you're completely wrong," I said quickly, "Okay, I was completely hammered, you can't take anything I said seriously. I could have been calling any girl."

Helga rolled her eyes and shrugged. I pulled out my phone and checked the time, then decided to give Harold a call. He didn't pick up, but I left him a voicemail telling him to buy me cigarettes because I was suddenly out of money.

I looked down at my feet, covered by my favourite pair of boots. I had long since retired the white beatle boots of my youth, but boots were still my footwear of choice. The thing that sucked was that puberty was still working its magic on me, so the boots were pretty tight and I knew that I would have to get a new pair soon.

"Hey, Helga, what are you doing after school?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"...why?" Helga narrowed her eyes at me.

"Because you'd be the best, most awesome person ever if you would buy me new shoes. I've found myself without access to my money all of the sudden, so I would pay you back as soon as I get access to my cash."

"And how'd you manage that?" Helga took a drag on her cigarette.

"Because I pissed off my dad. And because I wound up with those three mailboxes in my room."

"Those mailboxes will haunt you," Helga said.

"Forever. They'll haunt me forever. So, about the shoes," I tried to get Helga back on topic.

"No, I will not buy you shoes."

"Aw, fuck you. It could be an early birthday present."

"I don't even care when your birthday is," Helga snuffed her cigarette out on the railing.

"It's May tenth," I said.

"Like I said, I don't care," Helga dropped the butt on the ground and hopped off the railing.

"Fine, be a bitch," I said.

"You seem to keep forgetting that I'm always one," Helga said, about ready to go inside.

"Yeah, I must have short term memory loss, because I don't know why I always think that just once, you'll throw me a fuckin' bone."

"Well, hey, expect the least and you won't be disappointed, bucko," Helga said.

After that, she prised open the door and strode inside, leaving me out there wondering why in hell I was so enamoured with her, because it obviously wasn't heading anywhere. I had dug myself into a giant hole, something that had at first started out as a stupid game now had my feelings at stake. I never meant for it to go this far, but it did, and now I was kicking myself in the ass every day, putting my heart on the line as I subjected myself to Helga Pataki. And every day, she promptly stepped on my dream and crushed it into little itty bitty pieces. Itty bitty pieces! It was awfully cruel.

I would never get that girl.

–

"I have an idea for what to do for your birthday," Allen said to me as we were eating lunch one day.

I still hadn't gotten new shoes, so now I was reduced to wearing my ratty old pair of converse. It was so degrading, not being able to stomp around in boots. Degrading, I tell you.

"What?" I asked, taking a sip of Mountain Dew.

"You'll be eighteen, so we should totally all go to a club. Harold can buy us drinks, and we can pick up some sweet pussy there."

"Seriously, Allen, just get a girlfriend and you won't be reduced to using phrases like that."

"I am not gay! Fuck!" Allen glared at me.

I laughed and punched his arm, "You know I'm just kidding. That actually sounds fun though. Let's do it! I'll invite Helga."

"Dude, give it up. You're not getting her."

"I don't care, I'm still gonna try. I'll ask her after Biology. I bet she dances crazy awesome."

"Stop thinking about it before you pop a boner," Allen said.

"Too late."

"TMI, Sid, TMI."

–

I was fully prepared to run right out of Biology, but Mrs Yves called my name right as the bell rang. With a tacky red talon, she beckoned me over to her desk. I groaned inwardly, but picked up my bag and books, then made my way to her desk, knowing it was nothing good.

"Sid, do you really want to repeat this class a third time? Because right now, if you don't pull your grade up, you're not going to pass, even if you ace the final, which is unlikely."

"Third time's the charm," I grinned.

"No," Mrs Yves eyes narrowed. "I want you to pass this class."

"I know, I'm thrilled about going through this class for a third time under your... loving expertise. But it's just not my thing. Sorry," I shrugged.

"Sid, I know you're smarter than this. Just push for the home stretch and get your grade up so you can pass," Mrs Yves looked tired.

"Well, I'll see what I can do," I gave her a salute, then hauled ass out of the classroom.

After throwing my shit in the locker, I made my way to the fire escape, hoping to find Helga, but she wasn't there. I spent all of my free period out there, but Helga never showed. And the worst part of all is that I didn't have any damn cigarettes on me.

–

"Sid, what do you want to do on your birthday?" Dad asked me as we were having dinner one night.

I was in the middle of wolfing down my spaghetti because I had to leave for work in like, five minutes, so I nearly choked and died when he startled me. Our dinners were usually silent, and as of late, smouldering. After hacking out spaghetti bits for about a minute, I gasped out an answer.

"Not die."

Dad just laughed, not even caring that fifty years from now, doctors would find the shrivelled remains of a spaghetti noodle in my lungs. And they would mistake it for cancer and I would have a lung removed and it would be all his fault. He really could be a bastard sometimes.

"Well, besides that," Dad said.

"Uh, I dunno, just go out for dinner. I'll probably go stay over at Harold's house or something later."

"All right, think of where you want to go eat then. Do you have any idea of what you want?"

"Not really," I shrugged, "but new boots would be cool. And I'd like my weed back."

"I smoked that shit. That's why this pasta is so delicious for me right now," Dad wiggled his eyebrows at me.

My dad really was a bastard. That was some legit shit I had bought, seriously. But I didn't have time to say anything to him, because I needed to run to catch the bus to work. On the way out I made sure to snag two cigs from the pack my dad always kept in his jacket.

Once I got to work, I found Kevin outside having a smoke break. I joined him and lit up one of my pilfered cigarettes.

"I can't buy cigs any more. My dad won't let me access my bank account," I said, hoping to stir up some pity in Kevin's heart.

"Why?" Kevin asked, "I thought you were still seventeen anyway."

"Well, there's this L&M that doesn't card if I don't shave for a few days, but he took it away because I partied too hard on prom night and stole three mailboxes."

Kevin choked on his cigarette smoke and spent the next few minutes coughing and laughing. I interjected that Dad stole my weed too, but this only made Kevin laugh harder and didn't gain me any sympathy.

"Dude, introduce me to your dad soon, I'll smoke that guy out. How'd you steal those mailboxes?" Kevin finally managed to say.

"I don't even know! I was blackout drunk."

"Haha, you are the man, Sid," Kevin gave me a high five. "Say the word and I'll smoke you out."

"Or you could just buy me a pack of cigarettes."

"Nah, bud is all you're getting from me," Kevin grinned.

"You're lame... but hey, I think my friends and I are going to a club on my birthday. You know any good ones?" I asked.

"Hmm," Kevin stroked the stubble on his chin for a few seconds, putting on his most pensive looking face. "Well, that depends on what you want to do. Do you want to get shitfaced? The Summit is super loose with ID's. Do you want to dance? The Union has good music after nine. Do you want birthday nookie? Go to SFX, or The Saddle if you want to pick up crazy bi chicks."

I just blinked before taking a deep drag on my cigarette, "Well, as fun as birthday nookie sounds, I'm going with a big group of friends, so I figure The Union would be our best bet, since I'm not sure how drunk everyone else wants to get. Besides, we're going to bring our twenty-one friend along for the ride."

"Sounds good, my man. Say, why don't you stop by sometime that day, we'll have a birthday toke," Kevin grinned, dropping his cigarette and grinding it out with his boot.

I grinned back, "Sounds great."

–

"So, Helga..." Once again, our smoke breaks had coincided. I don't know why I still wandered out to the fire escape, I didn't have any cigarettes to smoke. Maybe I hoped I would see Helga out there so I could bum a cigarette. Because that's what it was all about, yeah. "I'm going to a club on Friday to celebrate my birthday, do you want to come? You can invite friends if you want."

"Why?" Helga had a googly-eyed expression on her face, like she was wondering why I bothered to talk to her.

"Because... there'd be dancing? Fun? The opportunity to create meaningful memories that you can carry for the rest of your life? Hot guys and the promise of sex? I don't know what to say to entice you to go except it's my birthday and I'd like it if you were there to celebrate with me," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets and pacing around the fire escape.

Helga crossed her arms and nervously smoked her cigarettes for a few minutes before responding, her eyes following me as I paced.

"Fine, I'll go, but if you get fucked up, I'm not babysitting you!" she said fiercely.

–

"Hey, Dad, I'm home and I'm starving! Let's go out to eat!" I shouted once I was through the door, dropping my book bag on the floor.

"Hold on a second, Sid, Jesus!" Dad yelled and I saw him coming down the stairs with two wrapped presents in his arms.

He came and plopped them both on the couch, then leaned back and wiped his brow. I walked over and looked over the presents. Dad nodded at me, letting me know that I should open them right now since I would be leaving for Harold's right after dinner.

So I sat down on the couch right next to the gifts. Picking up the first one, I found it to be heavy, but not too heavy. I shifted it around a little, listening to how to the contents sounded. This was something Dad and I always did any time one of us had gifts to open, we tried to guess what it was before opening it.

"Hmm, it's heavy, but moves around, so it's not delicate," I said, running my finger over the package, "And it feels like a shoebox... so I could be shoes, or something else in a shoebox." I shook the box. "I think it's shoes."

Dad's face was just blank, not giving away whether I was right or not. I ripped off the paper and found that it was a shoebox, but a ladies shoebox. I made a face and wondered what it could be if it wasn't shoes. After pulling off the top, I realized that I had been right all along, because it was shoes! Dad had just put them in a different shoebox to fool me. Even though that raised a whole new question of where he had gotten the ladies shoebox.

But the shoes were fucking awesome! They were a badass looking pair of military surplus jump boots, and how could I not love a brand new pair of boots that looked that kick ass? I pulled off my goofy looking converse right away to put on the boots. They fit a little loose, which was good because they'd probably fit perfectly in a few months.

"Holy shit, these are awesome, thanks, Dad!" I said, admiring my new boots.

"Well, they're not the only gift you got, open the other one and don't shake it or nothing."

I picked up the remaining present. It was really heavy. I pondered what it could be. Maybe it was an Xbox or something. It had to be something electronic, the shape was just right and it felt like original packaging. Once I had had enough pondering, I ripped off the wrapping paper and my jaw about reach the floor. It was a motherfucking Macbook!

"What the... holy shit, Dad! For real?" I was stunned as I turned the box around, looking at it.

Dad just grinned for a second seeing my flabbergasted reaction.

"I figured you'd need a nice laptop for college, and I know you're really into music, and Macs have that Garage Band thingie; you could record your own music and get discovered like that Justin Bieber kid."

I just laughed and opened up the box, pulling out my beautiful new laptop, still stunned, because one, seriously, a fucking mac, wow, and two, where the hell did Dad pull together the money to buy one of these? Weren't they like a thousand dollars? Jesus.

I played with my new laptop for at least an hour, forgetting about how hungry I was until Dad asked if I wanted to go eat now. I nodded and put my beautiful laptop away, grabbing my phone and wallet. Dad was already in the car, so I got in the passengers seat and we were off for a slightly awkward dinner.

–

Once I was free of the clutches of Dad, I ran up to my room and threw all my clothes into a duffel bag before dashing out of the house with barely a goodbye. I caught the bus to Harold's house to get ready there. Dad just thought I was spending the night at Harold's house, so I dearly hoped that no one would spill the beans, because I was still on thin ice with Dad.

Harold opened the door as soon as I knocked and gave me a big hug.

"Happy birthday, man! All legal and shit now!" he laughed, punching my arm.

"I know! That's why were going clubbing tonight, hell yeah!" I laughed too.

"Who's all coming?" Harold stepped aside and let me in.

"Um... Stinky can't come because he's still seventeen, but Allen can, he'll be over here soon I think, and Helga and her friend Phoebe, and Phoebe's boyfriend. We're meeting them at the club."

"Sweet, so come into the fucking kitchen, you deserve birthday shots!"

Harold and I took a few shots of some ridiculously sweet, fruity vodka that I didn't really like, but the liquor hit me as I was walking up the stairs to Harold's room. Harold was already dressed to go out, wearing a nice polo, dark jeans, and some ostentatious Nikes. I tossed my bag on his bed, then pulled out the clothes I was going to wear, quickly throwing them on.

With a pair of black jeans, the jump boots Dad had given me, studded belt, and leather jacket left open to expose the white wife beater underneath, I was feeling pretty studly. And Allen would out-metrosexual me anyways.

Harold had left to answer the door as I was lacing up my boots, so I wandered downstairs to see who was there, and it was Allen. He gave me a hug and told me all the normal happy birthday stuff, before handing me a bag that had my present in it. I laughed because the bag was so dorky, with Elmo and other Sesame Street characters on it.

The present was a carton of cigarettes and a really nice pair of aviators. I thanked him and gave him a hug, putting the sunglasses on right away. They really completed my outfit. Wow, Allen was rubbing off on me. Speaking of Allen, he indeed did out-metrosexual me, wearing dress shoes, tight jeans, suspenders, a scarf and a fucking fedora. And he wondered why people thought he was gay, Jesus.

We all bro'd out for a while and took a few more shots until we were pretty plastered before heading out. Allen made to get in Harold's station wagon, but Harold yelled at him that we were taking the subway because he was not driving drunk again.

It was about eleven once we got to the club. I spotted Helga right away with Phoebe and a guy who was probably Phoebe's boyfriend. We waved at them and headed over, all lighting up cigarettes and joining the crowd of other people going for a fix outside.

Helga looked fucking amazing, with her hair all curly. Her dress was great, just a simple black dress, but it was classy and classic and worked for her, showing off her crazy hot body. She had on epic pink pumps and a pink clutch was in her hand. I liked that she did the classy instead of letting her cootch hang out of something that would be better worn as a shirt. Not that I thought she would ever dress like that. Or hoped that she would. No, never.

Phoebe looked nice in a dark blue sparkly top, dark jeans and dark blue pumps. Her boyfriend, a kid who looked mildly familiar, had on a white t-shirt, red vest, big jeans, and Nikes like Harold's.

"Gerald, this is Harold and Sid and Allen," Phoebe said, pointing us out.

Gerald nodded, his brow furrowing for a second until he laughed and nodded again.

"Oh yeah, I remember you guys, we went to school together for a while," he said, shaking our hands. "How's it going, man?"

"It's going good, where have you been?" Harold asked.

"Different district, y'know, I go to East," Gerald shrugged.

"Cool, cool," I said, flicking my finished cigarette into the street. "Should we go in and get partying?"

"Hell yeah!" Harold shouted and ran to the door.

Allen followed, as well as Phoebe and Gerald. Helga hung back claiming she was going to smoke another cigarette. I didn't want to leaver her alone outside all dressed up. Some drunk guy would come up and be all over that shit. I know she could deal with him, she'd just punch his lights out or something, but I didn't want any asshole to come up and piss her off. Because then she'd be pissy the whole night and normally I'd expect that, but you think it would kill the girl to be sweet and friendly for two seconds on my birthday.

"What, aren't you going to go in and get your drunk on?" Helga asked, looking down her nose at me when she realized that I was staying outside with her.

"Well, it's already on. I didn't want some drunk guy being all, 'Girl, whatcho number? Gurl, you need to come wif me tonight!'" I said before lighting up another cigarette.

Helga snorted, "You think all drunk men talk that way?"

"Just you wait. We'll wait and see who's right. I'll go stand a little bit away so they don't think I'm your boyfriend or anything."

"You're not," Helga said more forcefully than I expected her to.

"I know, but they're drunk, and their judgement is clouded, so they probably think that," I said, moving myself a few feet away from Helga.

And so we waited. And waited. And waited. Finally some guy came stumbling out of the club with his friends, strode right past Helga, then stopped, turned around and went, "Dayum, gurl, you is lookin' fine tonight, ow-ooow!"

Helga sent him a glare that even scared me and I wasn't even the subject of the glare for once. The guy just rolled his eyes and muttered something about Helga being a bitch, to which she was about to respond, but I put my hand on her shoulder and turned her away from the guy.

"See, it's just something innate to alcohol. It makes most guys horndogs and incapable of meaningful speech. Now let's go inside so I can actual enjoy the club," I said, pushing Helga inside.

She just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, walking faster so my hand wasn't on her shoulder anymore.

–

"You look bored," I said to Helga.

She did. She was sitting at the table watching Phoebe's purse not being stolen and slowly sipping her soda. She hadn't danced once all night, and I felt bad inviting her if she wasn't having fun. Even though she decided to come. But still.

"No duh, Einstein," Helga muttered.

"Well, let's dance together," I said, offering my hand to her.

"Yeah, so you can grind your junk all up on my ass?"

"Yeah, so I can grind my junk all up on your ass, no, come on, that's not how you do it. You grind _your_ junk on mine."

"Yeah right," Helga rolled her eyes.

I rolled mine right back and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. She glared at me, but didn't try to break out of my grasp. Maybe I was making progress with her.

"We don't have to dance like everyone else, we could do a different dance, or jump up and down like-"

"Let's tango," Helga said suddenly.

"Tango?" I gave Helga a look. First of all, I didn't know _how_ to tango, and secondly, wasn't the tango a super-sexy suggestive dance?

"Yes. If you want to dance with me, that's what we're doing."

Helga gave me a pointed look before disappearing into the crowd. I wasn't sure if I wanted to follow her or if I wanted to go find Harold to buy me another drink. After some deliberation, I went and found Helga, who was talking to the DJ. He was nodding and once Helga left to walk back to me, the music changed to something very Latin sounding. Something someone would tango to.

A bunch of people started grumbling and cleared off the dance floor. Helga looked at me again and raised her eyebrows. I swallowed and walked over to her, I had no idea how to do this.

Helga started circling around me, and I wasn't sure why the hell she was doing that, so I matched her movements, all the while scouring my drunken brain for what the hell one does dancing the tango. Finally, Helga walked up to me and raised her hand up in the air before putting it on my shoulder and sticking her other hand out level. I took her outstretched hand.

"I'll lead," Helga said, and already, she was.

We stomped around the dance floor for a little while, then Helga twirled out, running her hand down her body. I pulled her back towards me and dipped her, because I felt it was a tango-ish thing to do. When I heard people cheer, I realised that we were being watched. Good thing I was drunk, or otherwise I would have clammed right up and ran off the dance floor or some shit.

Helga was moving her feet around all fancy like on the floor, her heels clacking as she twisted her body side to side. I was just trying to follow her movements the best I could. Helga twirled out again and she fixed her stare on me. It was intimidating, but I stared right back. There was something in her stare I couldn't discern, it was like fire burning, it was a sort of passion I hadn't seen before. I couldn't get my hopes up too much. Maybe she just liked to dance.

Slowly, Helga stepped toward me, her hand out. I grabbed her wrist. Helga quirked one eyebrow at me, then raised her other hand. I grabbed that wrist too, then let go, because that was too weird for me, even for just a second to have that kind of power over her. She was a girl who was supposed to be dominating. Helga even had a matching look on her face, it was a split second of shock and realizing that I had complete control over her.

Helga retaliated by taking a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back, all the while doing that fancy footwork, pushing me back towards the DJ table. All the while we were both staring each other in the eyes, and it was weird, maybe I was just too drunk or whatever but I felt this spark, however cheesy it sounds, but I felt that damn spark. This dance lived up to my expectation, being super intimate, which was more than I bargained for with Helga.

The song sounded like it was coming to an end, so on a drunken whim, I picked Helga up and we spun around. She was so shocked that she let go of my hair, and slowly, I set her down. She slid down into a half kneeling position, staring up at me with that stupid indiscernible look, so I couldn't tell if she was pissed or pleased or about to rip my head off.

The sound of applause broke me out of my staring contest with Helga. I looked around and saw that the whole club had been watching us tango, or whatever the hell we were doing, so now they were giving us practically a standing ovation. Well, I guess it was technically a standing ovation since they all were standing but I digress...

Letting go of Helga, I straightened myself, then pulled Helga to her feet. Helga adjusted the straps on her dress then fussed with her face. I gave the people crowded around us an awkward smile before the DJ put on a song that everyone could dance to, which meant the floor became crowded once again.

"I thought I said I was going to lead," Helga hissed at me once we were surrounded by people.

"Well, I thought what I did would look cool. I mean, we're in a club full of drunk twenty-four year olds. D'ya think that any of them know what a legit tango should look like?"

"Ugh," Helga just groaned and melted into the crowd.

After she was gone, I went and found Allen and Harold and Gerald. They all gave me weird faces when I showed up, like I had just had thrown up on the dace floor or did a Michael Jackson crotch-grab move.

"Dude, what the hell was that?" Harold asked me.

I picked up a glass of water at our table and took a sip before speaking, "I dunno, I feel like I had mind sex or something. We were tangoing."

"Mm-mm-mm, I cannot believe a girl like Helga tangoed with you," Gerald shook his head.

"Trust me, I'm just as surprised as you. And I need a Goddamn cigarette after that," I fished a cigarette out of my pack and stuck it behind my ear as I made my way outside.

Much to my chagrin, Helga had had the same idea as me, which meant she sent me the glare of a lifetime when she saw that I was lighting up. I just sort of hung out closer to the door, away from Helga because I had the idea that she was majorly pissed off at me. I wasn't even going to question why, because who really even knew what went through her head?

I was surprised when I looked up from my boots to see Helga striding over towards me. I tried to keep the most stoic face possible but I'm not really sure if I did any good.

"Don't get any ideas about that dumb dance," Helga told me.

"Do you always have to dictate things to me like that? Why are you so afraid that I'm going to assume something when we do _anything_ together? It's like you're worried I'll like you or something," I said, determined to press every button Helga possessed.

"What? You are fucking delusional, Sid, I am not interested in you, so I don't want to lead you on," Helga started.

"Wow, you are sooo generous," I said. "I think I got the picture from about ever single second I've ever spent with you. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was you who's interested in someone else, so enlighten me, who's this mystery boy who makes you act like this?"

Helga blanched and sucked down her cigarette. I knew I had hit another sore spot for her, and I debated going on about it, but I figured I'd let Helga get a snappy retort or two in.

"You are completely wrong,"

"Oh, right, sorry, mystery girl?"

"Ugh, I CANNOT believe you, Sid Gifaldi!" Helga said, pushing me up against the wall.

Wow, I had _really_ hit a sore spot. This was probably about the second most pissed off I've ever made her. This deserved a medal. I was putting myself in the line of duty, for the greater good of mankind, or at least those who had to deal with Helga Pataki on a daily basis.

"You can't believe me? All I want to know is why you're always like this, with your fuckin... hackles raised, ready to attack!" I said. Helga was still in my face, and I was staring her down again, like we had stared each other down during the tango. I could almost see the same fire burning in her crazy pale eyes, but I didn't want to flatter myself too much. "Or maybe you're just really trying to hide the fact that you do feel something for me, but you don't want to do anything about it because I'm not and I never will be _Arnold_."

Helga slapped me hard across the cheek. I just stood there, taking the pain like a man. Her eyes were absolutely on fire, I swear I could feel the anger radiating off her. Her chest was heaving like she had just run a marathon and I could tell that there were obscenities on her tongue just waiting to pour our.

It was probably the liquid courage helping me, but I didn't back down, I held her blazing gaze. Our faces were so close, I swear, I could have leaned in and kissed her. I wanted to lean in and kiss her. I bet she knew I was thinking about kissing her. It was the hardest thing in the world to not put my lips on hers, and show her how much I _wanted_ her at that moment, but I knew that kissing her would be the most dumbass thing in the world to do.

Helga squared her jaw and turned away abruptly, striding down the sidewalk as fast as her heels would let her. I just stood there, back against the wall, and let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. Wow. I had really fucked up.

–

Unresolved Sexual Tension, yay!

And I want to take some time at the end of this chapter to thank you all for sticking by this story! It's one of my favourites to write, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do :)


	9. Chapter 9

I don't know how long I stood outside the club, wondering what the hell I just did, but it was a long time let me tell you. Eventually, I wandered back inside and found Phoebe and Gerald at our table, with Phoebe on her cellphone, finger jammed in the other ear to block out the sound of the club. Gerald just looked on, expression unreadable. I had a sinking feeling Phoebe was on the phone with Helga.

The look Phoebe gave me when she noticed me was an answer enough. Gerald put his hand on Phoebe's shoulder, then made a gesture like he wanted me to walk with him. I figured I might as well, because, Jesus, I had really screwed up. I'm pretty sure the bouncer was sick of seeing me by now.

"What the hell did you say to Helga?" Gerald asked once we were outside.

I shrugged, my mouth occupied by a cigarette, "I don't know if I really need to be talking about this with you, I don't think it's any of your business."

"Y'know, as much as it pains me to say it, Helga's my friend, so I'm pretty sure it's my business," Gerald said mildly, but I could tell he was way pissed off. "She sounded pretty hysterical when I was on the phone with her. Not a lot makes that girl hysterical."

"Well, what the hell do you want me to say? Okay, Jesus, I might as well be waving a giant flag over my head saying, 'I like Helga!'" I paced around the front of the club and burned through my cigarette faster than I had ever smoked anything before. "So I was asking her, what, why won't she get with me?"

"Maybe because she's plain not interested in you?" Gerald asked.

"No shit, Sherlock!" I raised my voice, getting frustrated trying to explain myself to a kid I had just met again after like, nine... ten... seven years! "I know she is, but something's stopping her from getting with me."

"How about the fact you're still the same backstabbing, selfish asshole you've always been?"

"Will you just... just shut the fuck up? You're not helping," I shouted at Gerald. "Okay, so I mentioned Arnold, but I didn't think she'd go apeshit! She's had long enough to get over it."

"I can't believe you, Sid, you're such a jerk," Gerald raised his hands up and shook his head like he was finished with me.

"And it's not like her fuckin' heart got ripped out or anything! So what? They dated, they broke up. They dated for like, three months and then he moved. People don't exactly form deep undying love over three months," I said, angrily lighting up another cigarette.

Gerald just gave me a pitying look, like I was missing out on some big secret that made the words I just said painfully ironic. Then he went inside. I flicked his back off and after that I finished off my cigarette in a matter of minutes. I was not staying at this club a moment longer than I had to.

Once I was inside, I found Harold and begged him to head back home. I couldn't persuade him at first but after several mentions of the fact that it was my birthday, he relented. We found Allen and motored out of there.

"What's got your panties all in a bunch?" Harold asked as we waited for the train.

"I fucked things up with Helga. All I want to do now is go back to your house and drink myself into a coma," I muttered.

"Well, go ahead, just don't puke in my room. How'd you fuck things up?" Harold sounded supremely unconcerned, but he usually did when he was drunk.

"I don't want to talk about it," all I wanted to do was light up another cigarette, but we couldn't smoke on the platform.

"You showed her your dick, didn't you?" Allen laughed.

"Fuck off!" I spat at him, shoving him and giving him a glare that would have frozen hell to show him that I was _not_ in the mood to be fucked with whatsoever.

"God," Allen gave me a look but seemed to decide to let things slide.

With a rumble and a roar, the train arrived, so we got on, the effects of a night of dancing and drinking starting to take effect. My eyes were drooping so the only thing that kept me awake was knowing I would be able to smoke and drink back at Harold's place.

I stared out the window even though I couldn't see much besides ads because it was a subway train. What should I even do? After a while of thinking without getting any answers, I figured I would deal with the problem later because right now, it was the weekend. I should just relax and have fun and I could worry about Helga during the week.

Allen got off before us to head home, so I gave him a man hug and thanked him for coming, even though the evening was kind of a bust. He just shrugged and said he had fun anyway, then wished me happy birthday. After saying that, he dashed out the door and just made it before they slid shut.

A few stops later, Harold and I got off. As we started to walk to his house, I realized that I had pretty much sobered up. At least I would be able to fix that soon. Being sober, I mean, not the problem of Helga and I. Of course drinking wouldn't solve that. It would only exacerbate things. In fact, it would probably pour gasoline over everything and light it on fire. But being drunk would let me forget about it for a little while.

"We gotta be quiet, my parents are asleep," Harold said as he unlocked the door.

We stopped in the kitchen and grabbed the bottles of alcohol.

Once we were in Harold's room, I grabbed an ashtray from his bedside table and lit up a cigarette, then unscrewed the top to the vodka. I braced myself, then gulped some down straight from the bottle. The sweet burn of the vodka assured me that everything would be all right in a little while.

"Jesus, that's a whole bottle, don't kill it," Harold said, swiping the bottle out of my hand when he returned from changing out of his club clothes and generally getting ready for bed.

I was already smashed, so I just grabbed a bottle of Jägermeister right next to me and opened it up.

"Let'sss do Jäger shots, Harold, you're not as druuunk as me," I slurred.

"I think you can lay off for a little while," Harold told me, unscrewing the top of the vodka and taking a sip.

"I need to be drunker," I said, downing a big gulp of Jäger. "I wish I was twenty-one. All my problems would be solved if I was twenty-one. I love drinking."

"You're a big, fat, drunk, Sid, shut the hell up and go to sleep," Harold told me. "And lay on your side or something. I don't want you to die."

I scoffed, "When will I die? I'm too beautiful to die, pffft, ha!"

After that I don't really remember much, but I figure it's probably good that I don't because Harold said I did some real embarrassing stuff and he had to explain to his parents why I was sitting on the floor crying. So, yeah, I'm actually thrilled I don't remember that stuff.

I didn't see Helga for a few days, and I couldn't figure out if I thought that was good or bad. I guess it was good in the fact that I had time to cool off and re-examine what happened with a sober mind, but I just got the same conclusion: I was right and she was wrong. Sure, maybe I didn't know what the hell I was talking about with Arnold, but that didn't give her an excuse to slap me. That really hurt.

It's not like I was being vindictive or anything either, I was honestly curious as to why she absolutely refused to get with me. Because I think that somewhere, deep down inside, she did like me a little bit, like, just a minuscule amount, but obviously, something or someone was keeping her from getting with me. And I'm not saying that to sound pretentious or anything, I just figure that any normal, emotionally stable person would be willing to try having a relationship when there are mutual feelings of attraction.

It was finals week now, which meant that everyone was a bundle of joy to be around. I stopped giving a fuck about all my classes around the second day of school, so mentally, I had already checked out. That's why I was sitting out on the fire escape, chaining cigarettes and playing songs on my guitar. If I leaned just right, I could balance myself on the railing, bracing my back against the wall and my foot against the opposing railing.

After thinking for a second, I decided what I was going to play next. I had an hour and a half to kill before taking my next final of the day. My fingers started strumming the upbeat chords of Alkaline Trio on my guitar.

"And if it's okay, I'll just grab my shit and leave, I won't say one word, I'll keep my tricks up my sleeve, flew off of the handle, you opened fire on me, put me down, put me out of misery, I'm fatally yours," I sang.

The door opened and I half expected it to be a teacher telling me that I was going to be expelled and fined a hundred dollars for smoking on school property or Allen coming out here to whine that he had just bombed his trig exam. Instead I just about fell off the railing when I saw it was Helga.

I tried to play it cool like I didn't really give a shit that she was out here, but in reality, my heart was pounding and I felt all goofy inside. I wondered what she would do. Would she ignore me, would she bitch at me, would she apologize? I voted for one of the first two.

So far, it seemed her course of action was ignoring me. She pulled a cigarette out from behind her ear then lit it. I watched the cigarette smoulder while Helga rested her hand on the railing and stared out at the street. Then she turned to look at me and I near shit my pants.

Of course, instead of doing that, I tried to play it cool, so I said, "Hey."

Helga just sighed and turned to look back out at the street. I just fiddled with my guitar, playing whatever chords came to mind.

"This is why I don't like you, Sid. You're making me apologize to you a second time, Christ, look, okay, I'm sorry I slapped you or whatever."

Wow, was she really apologizing again? I felt so special. I was the luckiest guy in the world. Hooray.

"It's fine, I mean, I was just saying shit," I mumbled.

"Of course I know you were! It's all you do," Helga said, an edge to her voice, "but I grudgingly admit you made a good point. I am letting things hold me back from doing what I want to do."

I wasn't quite sure what to say, so I just strummed my guitar some more until I finally muttered, "Well, I'm glad I could help." That sounded too sullen, so I added in, "You know I'm always at your service."

"Oh, please," Helga rolled her eyes. "You're out for yourself."

"And what's wrong with that? Is it bad to be selfish once in a while or be selfish about something you really want?"

"And you really want me."

"I thought that was previously established," I said, still trying to play things cool. "But _want_ makes it sound so carnal... can't you say that I like you and I would love to have a mutually fulfilling relationship?"

"Too much of a mouthful."

"I didn't know you were so lazy. That could potentially be a problem," I stroked my chin.

Helga sighed, "Look Sid, I didn't mean that I _wanted_ to date you."

"Helga, I didn't mean I was being serious," I said, knowing I was pretty much fucking myself up the ass, but I just felt like I couldn't outright tell Helga how I felt about her. I had to do it in a roundabout way.

"Sure, Sid, whatever you say," Helga shrugged and put out her cigarette.

That whole exchange left me feeling strangely disappointed though. I might as well just go and date any other chick besides Helga because it was not happening any time soon. But the strange thing was, I couldn't see myself dating anybody besides Helga. Screwing, sure, but Helga wasn't a girl like that. Sure, I would get some satisfaction if I dicked her, but it just wouldn't be the same. She was a girl I wanted to spend time on.

I couldn't give up. Everything just had to fall into place.

–

Summer passed slowly. I spent most of it working, but I also recorded a shitton of music on my computer, some of it just with me, and some of it with the guys. We wrote original stuff, and we had a pretty decent sound. It wasn't a popular sound, but it was a good sound. I had bought a few new amps and pedals at the beginning of summer because I had saved up quite a bit of money over the period of time where I couldn't get into my bank account.

Speaking of Dad, I showed him some of what we recorded and he was surprised that we sounded all right. He said we could be on the radio some day. Maybe he was just being nice, but hearing that made me feel good. So to help me along, he offered to pay for some voice lessons for me. I agreed, because, hell, why not? You can always get better.

I didn't see Helga any more after school ended. I kind of hoped that she would come into work to buy some obscure record again, but it didn't happen. I was missing her like the love-sick sap I was. She must not have been missing me though, because she never responded to any of the texts I sent her, or returned my calls. I was starting to think maybe I just needed to take a damn hint.

But one day, I was slaving away over a hot cash register at work. Kevin was working with me and I had put a CD full of my band's stuff on, so it was playing in the store. Kevin came out of the stock room and sauntered up to me, laying his arm on the table as he fiddled with his mohawk with the other hand.

"So, uh, who's playing right now?" he asked.

"Over the speakers?" I asked, confused as to what he was asking, because that tended to happen sometimes. "It's me and my band. We don't have a name."

"Really?" I swear to God that man's jaw dropped to the floor. Oh come on, was it really that much of a stretch? "You're actually good!"

"And you thought I wasn't?" I gave him a look.

"Well, I didn't think you were anything with potential. But this is good, I'm digging this, it's very classic rock sounding, but it's got a lot of chunk and blues in the guitar. I thought you would sound different, something more..."

"Stonerish? Yeah, no, we like what we have going on," I said nonchalantly, even though I was pleased as piss that Kevin liked how we sounded.

"Could you make a few copies of that CD? If you and your friends don't mind, I could take them to a few places around town and see if I could get you guys a gig," Kevin said.

"Fuck, really?" I asked. "That would be so fuckin' awesome! I'll bring them tomorrow and leave them in the office."

"It should be easy, the music scene is totally dead here if you haven't noticed," Kevin said, giving the concert posters behind me a glare, like that would make all the local bands feel bad. "You guys don't sound like any of the dipshits who play around here, so everyone will be like, wow, shit, this is cool! We like these guys, they should play and make us monies!"

I laughed, "Well, let me know how it goes, I bet the guys will totally jump at the chance to play a real gig and not just something for school."

"Your school wanted you to play?"

"We played prom, I thought I told you that," I fiddled with my hair, pulling it out of its low ponytail and fixing it back up. It was too hot to wear it down.

"Dude, I'm on so much shit I don't remember what my name is sometimes," Kevin laughed.

"Well, just remember to get my band a gig, okay?" I said, seriously worried that Kevin would legit forget to give the CDs out.

"I'm shittin' ya, you little pussy, don't piss a fit," Kevin laughed, giving my arm a punch.

–

My phone was ringing. Fuck! Why was it ringing? It was six in the Goddamn morning. Six! What cruel bastard would call me at that time? I felt around my bed for my phone until I found it on the floor underneath a sock. Checking the Caller ID, I saw it was Kevin. He was such a little fucker.

I flipped my phone open and put it to my ear.

"What the hell d'you want? Why are you calling so early?" I mumbled, sitting up and pushing my hair out of my face.

"I come bearing good news! And I took a bunch of Adderall, so I haven't gone to sleep yet, but that's not important! Three places want you to play, and I have graciously took over as your manager."

"Well, awesome. I don't see why this couldn't wait until like... one in the afternoon, though," I said as I stuck a cigarette in my mouth and lit it.

"Because one of the places wants you to play tonight since their other band suddenly cancelled. And I need to let them know by ten am."

"Hah! Good fucking luck, like anyone else will be up before noon, what's the place though?" I said, taking a deep drag on my cig. The first one of the day was always the best.

"They kind of need an opener for Gilgamesh at The People's Court," Kevin said.

"Opening for Gilgamesh? How the hell did you land that?" I nearly shouted at Kevin.

Gilgamesh was one of the few good local bands, and one the few to make it big. They had just gone on tour after launching their first album, which I had to buy. And they were coming to play here? I had no idea that they were coming otherwise I would have bought a concert ticket, but now I could open for them! We _had_ to play!

"You're talking to the son of the guy who helped get them signed," Kevin said. "They trust our judgement, so don't blow this for me, Siddy."

"I won't, just, just say we'll do it and I'll make sure the guys do it," I said.

"Oh, and I took the liberty of choosing a name for you guys, you're now the Kevin Pussy Wagon Band," Kevin laughed.

"You're bullshitting me," I nearly dropped the cigarette out of my mouth.

"'Course I am. I named you Slow Turning Tide. You can always change it. Catch you tonight, bro," Kevin said and hung up.

After that I repeatedly called Harold until he picked up. He was very angry sounding at being called at seven in the morning but at that point I didn't care.

"What? What? Did you get arrested?" Harold groaned.

"No... not yet. But we are opening for Gilgamesh tonight at The People's Court, so be there!" I said. "Actually, come over to my house about eleven, and we can practice.

"Holy shit, are you on drugs?" Harold asked.

"No. Not yet. I'm dead serious, we're really opening for them."

–

Around noonish, Harold, Allen, and Stinky were all at my house, figuring out what songs we would play, and practising meticulously until we were sure we had every song down and wouldn't make a mistake even if we were smashed out of our minds. We all understood that this was a giant opportunity and we were real lucky just to get it. I was so nervous.

We were in the middle of a song when my phone rang. I picked up right away when I saw it was Kevin.

"What up?"

"Yo, you should get your shit down to The People's court by six, they want you to start playing by eight," Kevin said.

"It's nearly six now!" I said in exasperation.

"Well hurry your shit up then!" Kevin said and hung up.

"Let's pack up and go, we need to be down there by six, I guess," I said.

"What the fuck? I will kick this guys ass," Harold crossed his arms.

"He's the guy who got us the gig, so no kicking of his ass will take place, no matter how much he deserves it."

–

Dad agreed to let me borrow his car for the night on the condition that I return it in one piece, so we are able to get all our equipment to The People's Court by splitting it between Harold's station wagon and Dad's Grand Ville. I knew he really was supporting me because he loved that car like a second son. Or maybe like his first born. Either way, I would be dead if I fucked up _anything_ on that car.

That didn't stop me from driving like a maniac, because that's just how I drive. Allen and I blasted Gilgamesh as we drove to The People's Court. We kept the top of the Grand Ville down and rolled around generally feeling like badasses.

When we were waiting at a stoplight, another car full of punks pulled up right next to us. They had their windows down and I could tell they were smoking a joint. The passenger looked over at us and nodded his head in approval. A girl with her lip pierced stuck her hand out and made the metal horns going, "Gilgamesh!"

"Fuck yeah!" the whole car answered.

I grinned and turned the music up. We sat there rocking out until honks behind us clued us in that the light had turned green. I had thought about telling them that I was opening for Gilgamesh tonight, but then I thought better of it because that sounded pretty pretentious.

Kevin was waiting outside The People's Court, pointing at us to pull around back, so we did. Kevin said that most everything was already set up, all we needed to do was get our amps and pedals and Harold's drum kit in place, so it would be a lot easier than setting up for prom.

Inside the building, there were already people milling around, some with drinks in their hand. We were all on stage doing sound checks of our instruments and our microphones. I felt almost like a real musician, being on a real stage with a real audience.

As the time for us to play got closer and closer, I grew more and more nervous. Mainly I just stood out back, chaining cigarettes with Allen, who was just as nervous as I was. Harold and Stinky were out mingling or something. God knows what they were doing.

Too soon, someone who worked for The People's Court stuck his head outside the door and told us that we were needed inside; we were about to go on stage. Allen and I exchanged looks, then snubbed out our cigarettes and headed inside. I was stating to feel pretty queasy, both from nerves and from the fact that I had just chained about five cigarettes.

The person who had clued Allen and me in on the fact that we needed to be inside was also the guy who let us know when we needed to walk on stage. Harold went first, then Stinky, Allen, and finally me. I picked up my guitar from its little stand and got it all adjusted so it was comfortable before I walked up to the microphone.

"Hey, well, we aren't exactly Ice Blue Balls, they couldn't make it. We're Slow Turning Tide, every bit as local as Gilgamesh, so enjoy the fuckin' show!" I said, attempting to sound as confident as I could.

As Harold beat out the first few counts of our opening song, I looked out into the crowd and saw a flash of familiar blonde hair. No way, she couldn't be here! Did Helga even like Gilgamesh? They were a little soft on the spectrum of metal, considering she enjoyed the likes of Blut Aus Nord. Well, she must, or maybe she was here for Ice Blue Balls, but they were more hardcore and I don't think she liked hardcore... fuck! Here she was, getting me all distracted again and I didn't even know if she was really here!

Luckily, my mind focused on music again as I started to play, belting out, "Let's be gentle now/ I'm Brooklyn bound/ Ridin' the train for nothin'/ All I care about is your sound."

I couldn't tell if people were grooving on us at first, but as soon as we got more songs under our belt, people started throwing up the horns and their fists as we played. I still couldn't believe that we were playing a real gig and people actually liked us! These were people who had paid real money for the music alone, and not just for a stupid dance which happened to have music. It was a great feeling. I could do this for the rest of my life.

Towards the end our performance, we started to play a song I had written about Helga. Now I would be real embarrassed if she was actually in the audience and heard me sing it. It was probably just my luck and she really was there in the audience. But what did I care any more? Nothing I did or said worked, and it never would.

I started playing the chords for the song, which was real slow and bluesy and well, omphy, for lack of a better word.

"Goddamn, girl, just let me, unh!/ Can't you see I'm burnin' up/ Just to feel your touch, like fire?/ Put it on, take it off/ I don't care, all I want/ is for another taste of that slow burn," I sang, Helga on my mind.

In my head I sang that song better than I ever had before. I just hoped the people in the audience got an idea of how I felt about Helga. She really was a fire, always in the back of my head. Helga sat there, burning through my thoughts until I talked with her again and things exploded into a full-fledged flame that burned for days.

It'll be impossible to get over her. Every girl I meet from now on will always be compared to her. I'm always going to be looking for Helga. I'm always going to be looking for her sense of humour, her wit, her sarcasm, her attitude, I'm always going to be searching to find someone who makes me feel like Helga does.

Too soon, we had finished performing. I was surprised, that went quicker than I thought. How could it be over already? But people were cheering and clapping and really seemed to enjoy us.

I grinned and threw up my fist, giving everyone the horns, "Thanks guys! We'll get off here so you guys can see who you really want to see!"

Some employees of The People's court helped us get our stuff off the stage and then told us we should stay until after Gilgamesh finishes playing, to get our cut of pay for the night. Once our stuff was off the stage, we loaded it back into our cars. Allen, Harold, and Stinky all headed back inside to watch Gilgamesh play, but I stayed outside to have a cigarette.

Not long after I had lit up, Kevin stuck his head out the door to congratulate me on a show well played. He said I didn't suck too much, so I took that as we sounded all right. I mean, what did Kevin know, he was doped up on Adderall and God knows what else.

I told him thanks and went on with my cigarette. The door opened again and I didn't think anything of it until a very familiar person was standing directly in front of me with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

"Are you trying to stalk me in everything I do?" Helga asked.

"No... I didn't even know you liked Gilgamesh. It's not like I shot Ice Blue Balls so I could play in their place. C'mon, this is my first show, can't you be nice?" I made puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. I actually enjoyed listening to you. I might consider buying a CD. Are you happy?" Helga asked.

"Yeah, pleased as piss," I said, taking another drag off my cigarette. I'm kind of glad that she hasn't mentioned the song I sang about her just yet.

"And what was with that song? Slow Burn?" Helga decided to light up as well.

"Well, I could lie and say a bunch of stupid shit, but I wrote that song about you," I flicked the butt of my cigarette into the street.

For once, Helga didn't have anything to say. She looked pensive as she smoked her cigarette, with her blue eyes gazing at passing cars. I wondered what she was thinking about. Pulling out another cigarette, I lit up and blew out a cloud of smoke.

"How's Gilgamesh playing?" I asked, just to break the silence.

"Fine," Helga said quietly. "Sound awesome."

"Sweet, well, I'm gonna go in and finish watching them," I said, shorting my cigarette and making to go inside.

"Hold up, Dick Nose," Helga said sharply.

"Yeah?" I paused at the door, arm poised to pull the door open.

"I've been doing some thinking," Helga started.

_About how to get your panties on the floor_, my mind finished the sentence with a Puddle of Mudd song, to my chagrin.

"And I guess that we could _try_ something out. As long as you're not a slimy bastard," Helga said. "You can be... decent sometimes and I figure you'd be better than some jerkass."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I turned away from the door to face Helga. "And when am I a slimy bastard?"

"You're one all the time," Helga huffed, eyes narrowed. "And yes. Don't make a big fuckin' deal over it."

"I'm offended," I said, but inside I was practically exploding with joy. I couldn't keep an ear-to-ear grin off my face. "Deeply, truly offended."

"Somehow, I doubt it," Helga rolled her eyes.

"Well, can I kiss you?" I asked with that fire burning in the pit of my stomach. Helga had ignited it again, turning that slow burn into a raging flame.

"I said I could go a whole lifetime without being kissed by you," Helga said.

"Well, then I don't exactly see how it's gonna work out, because that's what you do sometimes with someone you like," I said.

"I knew it! I give you an inch and you want in my pants," Helga puts her hands on her hips.

"What? Well, of course I want in your pants, who wouldn't? But for real, like I could force that on you. Please. A kiss doesn't have to lead to that every single time!" I threw my hands up.

Here she was being... Helga again! God! She infuriated me and pissed me off and yet I was still drawn to her, attracted to her, and amazed by her. She drove me fucking nuts, and I loved it.

I realized that as we were arguing, I had been backing Helga into the wall, so I took a few steps back and pushed my hair out of my face. The last thing I needed was to make Helga feel like she had made a mistake and I was some creepy, controlling freak. That'd give her a great impression of me.

"I shouldn't have said what I said, it was a mistake, forget it," Helga said, sounding irritated as she threw a hand up, a motion that said something along the lines of _I give up_.

Against my better judgement, I took hold of her arm and spun her around to face me. She looked at me with those blazing eyes for a heart-pounding second before I put my other hand around her waist and pulled her up against me, so I could set my lips on hers.

I made sure that kiss was damn good, because it was probably the only one I was ever going to get. I made it as passionate and hungry and just, Goddamn her... that was the sexiest closed-mouth kiss I had every given anyone at least. Helga was stiff as a board in my arms, so I pulled back and let her go.

She just stood there, her eyes still snapping; it was the strangest thing I had ever seen. All at once they were icy cold yet blazing hot. I wondered if my eyes looked the same way to her. They probably just looked the same dirt brown they always looked, but I wanted them to look fierce and blazing.

"There! Fuck! You can leave me out in the fucking cold now, but at least you know how I feel about you!" I said, a little louder than I had intended.

It always seemed to come to this, me confronting Helga outside, being a dumbass, and doing something that will just piss her off and make things agonizing for me. She was some fucking drug and I couldn't get away from her. And each time, I knew it was bad for me, but still, I did it anyway. That's what she was. She was a drug.

"Leave you out in the cold? I just said... never mind, you know, you're... fuck you, Sid!" Helga said, her voice raised. "I... ugh! You won't get out from under my skin, and I hate it! I don't want you there! You just... put yourself there and hope that I give you a break! Like you've ever been any sort of subtle with your feelings!"

"Like I want to be so infatuated with you either! I could get any girl I really wanted, but no, you're all I want, I can't get you out of my head! Do you know how much it sucks to want someone so much and know that they'll never feel the same way about you?"

We had drawn closer again during the midst of our shouting, I swear, it was like the club all over again. I just kept watching her sparking eyes. Never had anyone made me feel this way, it was like every nerve in my body was awake and alive. My heart was pounding and I wanted to jump into the street and run a fucking marathon.

Helga locked her eyes on mine and gave me a look that nearly killed me. Her voice was ice cold when she spoke, "I do know, and I know how great life can be if they do feel the same way about you. That's why I though, oh, I should give Sid a chance, but now I see that you don't even deserve it!"

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on me, suddenly I knew exactly what, or who, she was talking about. _Arnold_. She felt or feels... the same way about Arnold that I do about her.

"Well fuck!" I balled my hands up into fists and out of lack of an outlet for my anger, I punched the brick wall, which was a very stupid idea. My hand instantly erupted into a hot bed of pain that nearly drove me to the ground. I gripped my smarting hand with my good one and looked up at Helga again.

She was right next to me, so close I could see the freckles on her face. Fuck everything. Just fuck it all. I uncurled my probably broken hand and pulled Helga to me again, capturing her beautiful lips in another kiss. All I wanted for her to feel was the sparks that I felt, how her lips were absolutely electric, how it didn't even matter that my hand was most likely broken, or that people on the sidewalk were staring.

I was a dumbass. I was a slimy bastard, but I didn't even care. I didn't even care.

Helga turned me around and pushed me back into the wall. I couldn't tell if it was an warning, saying, stop kissing me or I will call the cops on you, or Christ, I hate this but love it all at the same time. I was severely hoping it was the latter rather than the former. And I nearly shit my pants when Helga started to return the kiss, almost with the same intensity and passion.

God, Helga was going to absolutely destroy me.

I wound my good hand in her hair, then gingerly slid my still smarting hand from her cheek to her waist, feeling the warmth from her body against my skin. The kiss was so ferocious, yet still so chaste. I was used to girls using their tongues, their teeth, kissing was just something to occupy their mouth while other things happened. But this was Helga. She wasn't like other girls. And she was driving me mad.

Helga pulled back and looked at me. Her eyes were still snapping. She didn't have anything to say, and neither did I. I think our actions kind of spoke for themselves. And my pants. They kind of gave how I was feeling away.

Well, I suppose I did have at least one thing to say, "I think I broke my hand. We should go to the ER."

–

And about 40k words later, we just finally get to them doing _something_. And I believe I'm only about halfway done. Wow, this is the once story I can just write. As soon as I get grooving on writing Sid/Helga interaction, I can just keep going and going...

Anyway, I'm really trying to convey an intense passion between Sid and Helga. It's not ideal, Sid's kind of obsessed and Helga is just a passionate person, and when they get together, they just kind of explode and not in good ways.

Also, even though I'm not going to write explicit sex in this story, I'm trying to show how intense and passionate other things (like kissing!) can be, and that sex doesn't always have the be the most intimate thing two people can do. Hopefully it's not too over the top. I know I don't feel electricity when I kiss people, but sometimes I find that a good kiss can be just as much of a turn on as other things because they're just so... umph.

ANYWAY. A big big thanks to all of you that read and review and enjoy this story! I appreciate you tons!


	10. Chapter 10

.

.

I was just exiting the ER when my phone rang. I fished it out of my pocket, then flipped it open when I saw that it was Stinky, because I figured they at least deserved to know where I had gone. Plus, I was Allen's ride. I had all his stuff in the car.

"Where are you? We've been tryin' to call you for the past twenny minutes," Stinky said.

"I thought I broke my hand, so I went to the ER," I said.

"Broke yer... what were you doin' out there, Sid?" Stinky asked, sounding confused.

"I punched a wall," I said, "Look, I'll call you later. Let Allen know I'll be by in a little bit to pick him up."

"Sid, how'd chu," Stinky started, but I hung up after that.

I looked down at my hand. God must have been smiling down on me, because I had only broken three fingers and nothing else in my hand. I broke the first three fingers of my right hand. They were taped together and splinted at the moment. Goddamn, I would have to flip people off with my left hand now, but at least I could still kind of play guitar.

"Okay, where do you live again?" I asked Helga, who was sitting the passenger seat.

I don't think she would have come to the ER with me except I told her that I couldn't drive with a broken hand, so on an act of faith, I handed the keys for Dad's precious car to her. She ended up driving safer than me. It was an act of faith that ultimately panned out in my favour.

"Browning Street. I know how to get there from here, so just drive," Helga said, propping her head up with her hand.

"Okay," I shrugged and started the car, carefully backing out of the spot because Dad's car was an absolute beast.

It was like driving a boat. But on land. And nowhere near as fun.

"Take a left at the light," Helga said, now sounding more tired than anything else.

I did so and soon enough, we found ourselves barrelling down Helga's street. I screeched to a halt right outside her house. It looked like a nice house, and she did live in a nicer part of town than I did. Helga unfastened her seatbelt and was about to open the door when I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Why don't you come over to my house tomorrow? We can figure out something to do," I said.

"I'll think about it," Helga shrugged and got out of the car, shutting the door and walking up the steps to her house.

I made a face but waited while she unlocked the door, just to be sure she got inside all right. Once Helga had disappeared into her house, I drove off and pulled a u-turn so I could go and pick up Allen.

He looked pissed when I pulled up to The People's Court. Allen yanked the door open then plopped down in the seat. He grabbed his wallet from his pocket and handed me a stack of bills.

"Thanks for letting me know where you were, jerk," Allen said.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry I didn't put off getting treated for an injury," I rolled my eyes and took the bills, putting them in my own wallet. I would count them later.

"Yeah, because it's totally not a dumbass thing to do, punching a brick wall," Allen said.

"Lay off, dude," I said, lighting up a cigarette.

"Fine, man," Allen said, bringing out a cigarette of his own. "Why do I have a feeling you were out there talking to Helga?"

I took a deep breath and fought the urge to drive right off the street and into the side of a building.

"What if I was? I don't see why you're pissing a bitch fit like a little girl, I'm still here to take you home," I told Allen.

"Whatever," Allen muttered, turning on the radio and blasting the music so we didn't have to say anything more.

The rest of the ride was silent. When I reached Allen's house, I helped him unload all his stuff the best I could with my injury. He didn't even thank me or say good night or anything. Maybe he really was gay and was mad that I didn't return his feelings. But that was just my imagination running wild. He was probably just pissed that I blew the guys off for a chick.

I don't see how he could be mad though, I had just gotten the hottest kiss of my life. Goddamn. I shook my head and focused back on the road. That would be fun to explain to Dad, hey, sorry, I crashed your precious car because I was thinking more about a girl than the road. He'd forgive me for that. Totally.

–

The next day I didn't work, so I sat around bored out of my mind. I burned a few more CDs for Kevin, because he had sold several last night at the show. Kevin had also made us a myspace and Facebook page, so I checked those out to make sure he wasn't spreading lies (he wasn't, except he fudged how we got together, making it sound neater than what really happened). Then I uploaded a few songs to youtube, just to pass the time. It was hard to type with three of your fingers merged into one ginormo-finger.

As I was about to die from the double punch of pure boredom and extreme heat, my phone rang, so I rolled over off my stomach and picked it up.

"'Sup?" I mumbled, not even checking the caller ID.

"Let me in," Helga said, "your door is locked."

"You weren't even gonna knock?"

"I did. Multiple times. Loudly," Helga said.

"Okay, okay, okay, I'll let you in," I said, hopping off the bed and thundering down the stairs. Dad always yelled at me whenever I came down stairs, he said it sounded like I was falling down them.

I unlocked the door and let Helga in. She breezed past me and plopped down on the couch, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. I just looked at her for a few seconds, wondering what crawled up her ass and died. Maybe it impaled itself on the stick that's always lodged there.

After shutting the door and locking it again, I sat down next to Helga on the couch. I sat closer than I normally would dare, figuring I had the leeway to do so since we had a quasi-relationship going on. Helga just looked at me and pulled her cigarettes from her jeans' pocket.

"So, you're angrier than usual. Any reason why?" I fussed like a sissy with my hair, pulling it up off my neck into a bun. God, I sounded like a chick, but seriously it was fucking hot and Dad was too cheap to put on the air conditioning, so I was sweating like a bitch. It was seriously like a hundred degrees out.

"Ol-_ga_'s visiting," Helga said, like that explained everything. She leaned over and ashed her cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch and kicking her feet up on the tabletop.

"So?" I wiped my forehead, then decided screw it and took my shirt off. "Fuck this fucking weather!"

Helga just looked at me with a, "What the hell?" sort of look. I wadded up the shirt and shot it like a basketball towards the basement door. Once I pushed a few stray hairs out of my face, I stood up and stretched, intent on going to the kitchen and getting something cold to drink.

"You want something to drink? It's hot as hell," I said as I walked to the kitchen.

"Get me a Yahoo, and while you're at it, make me a sandwich."

"I just scoured the kitchen after I hung the laundry up to dry, couldn't the sandwich wait, dear? I'm making a roast for dinner," I pulled a Yahoo out of the fridge for Helga, then after some quick thinking, I grabbed a Rolling Rock from the vegetable crisper.

"If you call me dear again..." Helga warned, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a swig.

"Yeah, let's lay some ground rules. No calling me anything embarrassing. I would prefer to be addressed by you as babe, beefcake, sex god, or, alternatively, sex tiger."

"Because those aren't embarrassing at all," Helga smirked a little.

"Hardly."

"Well, how about this, you address _me_ as Helga at all times," Helga leaned forward again, dropping her cigarette butt in the ashtray.

"But that's no fun. Why can't I call you Cupcake Sugar Muffin?" I said, cracking open my drink.

"...What?"

"Why not? So what do you want to do? We have the exciting options of making sweet, sweet love; watching something on tv, sitting here trying to out-sarcasm each other, getting a free concert from me, or smoking this crazy super-weed I got."

"Exciting," Helga rolled her eyes. "Just turn on the tv."

I picked up the clicker and turned on the tv, idly flipping through all 15 channels we got with rabbit ears. Dad refused to pay for cable too. Helga didn't look impressed. She probably had like, nine thousand channels at her house since her Dad was the guy who everyone got their cellphones from. It must be nice being rich like that.

"Do you like Divorce Court?" I asked, teasingly.

"This is boring as shit, Sid," Helga lit up another cigarette.

I pulled out a cig of my own and lit up as well. Now that I was eighteen, Dad couldn't do anything to stop me from smoking and dying at fifty six of lung cancer.

"No duh, I was dying of boredom before this. You're not making it any better," I said. Helga was about to make a comeback, but my phone rang. I checked the Caller ID and didn't recognize the number, but the area code was at least for the state.

So I flipped the phone open and stuck it to my ear, then said, "Hello?"

"Hi, Sid, it's Mom."

I choked on smoke and spent the next few seconds hacking.

"W-what do you want, Mom?" I asked, rubbing my sweaty forehead. This heat was seriously kicking my ass.

"I wanted to see if you were free tonight. I want to take you out for dinner for your birthday," Mom said.

Frowning, I stood up and walked to the kitchen, so Helga couldn't hear me as much. Like I wanted her to see me get all pissed off at Mom right now.

"My birthday was two months ago, Mom," I chugged the rest of my beer, hoping it would help. "And you haven't talked to me since Christmas a year ago."

"Well, you're eighteen now, you're an adult, so I just wanted to talk to you like an adult," Mom said.

"Look, unless you're giving me a fucking car, I'm not really interested in helping you continue on your merry way of only-when-it's-convenient parenting," I told her. "So in the kindest possible way, Mom, fuck off. Maybe if you had called _on_ my birthday."

I hung up and quickly finished off my cigarette. Sometimes Mom really pissed me off. It's not like I have deep seated trauma from my parents divorcing or anything, they needed to do it. They weren't a good match. Dad was old and... old. He was a baller before ballers existed. I'm not gonna lie, Mom was _hot_ when she was younger. Like, hot enough that I'm surprised Dad managed to snag her. Thank God she was hot too, or I would have turned out ugly like Dad.

I don't know why they got married though, I don't think they were really in love or anything. Maybe it was a shotgun wedding. Later on, Mom decided she was tired of doing the housewife thing and left to trade raising me in for a shiney new career. I was thirteen and by that time anything I really needed to know (like if you could really go blind by masturbating) could be taken care of by the internet. The was cool for a while, but her whole "I'm a liberated, working woman, hear me roar!" schpeel got a little overrated when she decided that her career was more important than still being my mom. But you know, people are people and they do fucked up shit.

When I walked back out to the living room, Helga was browsing through our collection of tapes, which we used in place of that new-fangled thing called DVR. Mostly, I had just recorded all the crazy conspiracy theory specials they played on the public access channel. There were a few History Channel conspiracy theory tapes in there that I had Harold and Allen record for me.

"See anything you want to watch?" I asked Helga.

"I put a tape about the Vietnam War that looked interesting in and all I got was My Little Pony," Helga said.

"My Little... dammit, Allen's little sister must have recorded over it or something," I said, walking over and picking up the offending tape, putting it in just to check.

Sure enough, it was My Little Pony. But instead of popping the tape back out of the VCR, I watched it for a few moments.

"I think something's wrong with me. I want to keep watching this show," I said as I slowly backed away from the tv and sat down on the couch.

Helga just gave me a look but came over and sat down. Soon enough, I was completely engrossed in the show and resorted to finding the other episodes on youtube. I don't know if Helga liked it or thought I was crazy but the angel still sat through me shouting, "Rainbow Dash, stop being such a cocky bitch!" She probably thought I was crazy.

Then the door opened and I quickly shut my laptop so Dad didn't see me watching a show about ponies. Dad was talking to someone, so I ran to grab my shirt, because really, that would probably be about the last thing the person wanted to see: me, shirtless.

As I pulled the shirt down over my head, I realized too late that it was inside out and I probably looked like I was sex dressed or something.

"Hey, son, guess who's here?" Dad said, walking into the living room with the last person I wanted to see: Mom.

"Hi, Mom," I said.

"Hi, Sid," she said coolly.

"Who's your little friend?" Dad asked.

"Helga," Helga introduced herself.

"We were hanging out," I told them, which was the truth.

"I think it's time she headed home," Dad said, taking his phone and wallet out of his pockets

So I walked Helga outside. It was still blisteringly hot outside, I swear I nearly passed out because the heat was so oppressive. Dad was probably going to give me the chewing out of a lifetime because I told Mom to fuck off. How was I supposed to know she was in town?

"Sorry, I don't know why my mom's there," I shrugged in apology. "I hope your sister's done doing whatever it is that pisses you off."

"She'd have to stop existing for that to happen," Helga said.

"You can always dream, right?" I said, then stood there awkwardly, wondering if I could kiss her goodbye.

"I suppose," Helga sounded tired, but it was probably the heat. "I suppose you could call me later if your dad's stolen your weed again."

I laughed a little, "Okay," I said, then leaned in and kissed her sweaty cheek. "See you later."

Helga bit her tongue, then gave me a look, but she turned and began walking towards the subway station. I watched her for a second or two before I went back inside. Mom and Dad were both waiting for me. My shirt was still inside out. I had a feeling they were thinking I had spent the whole afternoon banging Helga. I wish!

"Go shower and get dressed in some nice clothes, Sid," Dad said. "Your mother's taking you out for dinner."

"...Fine," I muttered, then stalked upstairs. I took as long as I could to shower and get dressed. Sure, I was acting a little like a child, but my parents acted like children sometimes so I figured the least I could do was repay them in kind.

When I came back downstairs, I could hear Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen, so real quietly, I crept up to the entranceway and listened to them talk. Of course, I have no conscience, so I didn't feel bad about eavesdropping. I mean, there had to be some sort of big reason that Mom dropped by after hardly paying me any attention. It sounded like a pretty intense conversation.

"...Don't see why you're getting married again," Dad was saying. "You're still the same girl I married twenty years ago, if it didn't work with me, I don't see why it will work with this guy, who from what you told me, is just like _me._" Dad sounded pissed.

"Give it a break, Ray, we knew from the beginning our marriage wouldn't work. I've lived with Laurence for the past three years, and I know that we're a much better match."

"I'd say you're just after his money."

"Like hell I am! You think I'm not satisfied with the money I already make?"

"Well, you were never satisfied with what I could give you."

"I'm not having this money argument with you again, all I wanted to do was take my son out for his birthday," Mom sounded just as pissed as Dad. "I can't believe I had to call you just to get him to go."

"I fuckin' wonder why," Dad muttered.

"Don't patronize me, Ray," Mom sighed.

I didn't feel like listening any more, so I walked straight into the kitchen, not really caring if they realized I had been eavesdropping. I said I was ready to go and Mom just looked at me for a while. I didn't think I had dressed that outlandishly: black, ripped jeans, those jump boots Dad bought me, and a t-shirt.

"Ray, you haven't made him cut his hair? He looks ridiculous," Mom said.

"He's standing right here," I said, my patience growing shorter by the second. "Look, Mom, if Dad doesn't have a problem with it, where I work doesn't have a problem with it, and school doesn't have a problem with it, I don't think you should. Let's just go."

Mom gave Dad a face that made it plain she wasn't pleased with how he had raised me or something like that. Dad just gave her a hard look right back so she grabbed her purse and marched out of the kitchen with a, "Follow me, Sid." I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that I would have to spend an evening with my mother.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a restaurant where everyone was looking at me because I was in jeans and the only light came from candles. Also, Mom wasn't lying when she said she was getting married. Not ten minutes after we were seated, I was introduced to Laurence. I called him Laurence once in conversation and he told me to call him Mr Lydell instead. Jesus, dude, I was going to be your stepson.

"We're going to be getting married in the early spring, and we were thinking you should be one of Laurence's groomsmen," Mom said, staring at the wine in her glass before taking a sip.

Christ, the guy didn't even like me. I didn't even know what to think of Mom right then. She thought that she could just disappear from my life and then pop right back in like she had never left? Yeah right, Mom, life doesn't work that way. I was so uncomfortable, I couldn't wait for dinner to be over.

"Look, Mom, it's the twenty-fuckin'-first century, you can have me in your wedding party. Larry here doesn't even like me."

"Sid, you're being unreasonable," Mom hissed, because the people around us were staring since I had raised my voice.

"I don't think I am. Weddings are supposed to be filled with people you care about, and you haven't really made it clear to me that you care about me," I said slowly. "Look, thanks for taking me out for my birthday that was two months ago, it's been a real slice." And with that, I got up and walked out of the restaurant. My tolerance for bullshit was apparently very low that day.

I stopped outside to light up, knowing it would calm me down a little. Not a second later, the door open and Laurence, oh, shit, right, Mr Lydell, stepped out. Then he pulled out a pipe. Fuck that, did he just carry around a Goddamn pipe? Jesus Christ.

He didn't say anything, he just calmly pulled out a pouch of tobacco and put it in his pipe. I watched him light matches and smoke his pipe for a few minutes. Finally, he brought the pipe away from his lips and spoke to me.

"Your mother's a complicated person," he said.

"Thanks for the brilliant bit of info there, Larry," I snapped.

Mr Lydell chose to ignore my sarcastic response, instead he said, "I would have rather us just go to the courthouse. Let her do what she wants and she'll leave you alone."

I snorted, "You think that's what I want from her? For her to leave me alone? That's what she's been doing since she left. She can keep doing it for all I care, I don't need to be in her life because she's making it clear she doesn't want me there," God, I was doing that talking without shutting up thing again.

I decided that I should probably leave before I spilled my guts to the guy, so I turned away from Mr Lydell and made my way to the nearest subway station. When I took a quick glance behind me, he was still there smoking that stupid pipe. And Dad thought that Mr Lydell was like him. Yeah right. They were miles apart.

Instead of transferring to the train that would take me home, I rode the line I was on and got off at a stop by Helga's house. I swear to God the girl was probably going to kick me in the nads or something for showing up at her house unannounced, but what was the worst that could happen?

I forgot how nice her house looked. Still feeling like the same urchin I felt like last time I was near her house, I found my cajones and knocked on her door. While waiting for someone to answer, I absent-mindedly put my hair up since it was still about a bijillion degrees outside.

A girl who was hotter than Helga (as if that was even possible) answered the door. A big smiled formed on her lips.

"Oh, hello! Are you one of Helga's friends?" she asked, her voice fluttery and kind of breathy.

"Yeah, she here?" I asked, shifting my weight from foot to foot. The girl nodded. I realized that it was probably Olga, Helga's sister. "Oh, well, I want to talk to her."

"I'll go get her, why don't you come in?" Olga said, still smiling.

"That's okay," I started to say, but Olga continued to insist, saying that it was dreadfully hot out, and that she would bring me a glass of lemonade. So I stepped inside and waited nervously by the door.

Helga's house looked normal on the inside. Except for a room that was full of trophies. It looked like it once had been a living room. I wondered who the trophies were for until Helga came down the stairs, a surprised expression on her face, like she didn't expect me to come over to her house.

"Sid?" she said, her surprised expression melting into one of anger.

"I just wanted to see if you felt like going out and doing something,"

"Oh, are you taking my baby sister out on a date?" I hadn't realized that Olga was right behind Helga.

Helga blanched, so I tried to rectify the situation, "No, we're not dating. I just wanted to see if she felt like hanging out."

"Oh," Olga sounded almost disappointed. I figured it must be a sibling thing, something I wouldn't understand seeing as I'm an only child.

"I guess," Helga shrugged, "just let me grab my stuff."

While I was waiting for Helga to get her things, Olga took me into the kitchen and poured me a glass of lemonade. And holy shit, it was the best lemonade I ever tasted in my life. I saw Jesus when I drank it.

"This is really good," I gasped after gulping the rest of the lemonade.

"Aw, thank you!" Olga beamed. "I made it myself, from organic lemons I grew on the dwarf lemon tree I planted out back for Daddy..."

"Yo, Sid, let's bounce," Helga said.

She was standing in the doorway, so I thanked Olga for the lemonade and left with Helga. Once we were outside, Helga asked where we were going.

"I dunno, we could go throw rocks at dumpsters. I just got done with the worst fucking dinner of my life, so I don't really feel like going back home and having Dad grill me."

"Sounds riveting."

"Absolutely," I muttered and brought out a cigarette.

We were silent for a while until we came across a place we had stopped at often when we were younger, Slausen's Ice Cream. Neither of us needed to say anything, because of the heat, we were both thinking that ice cream would be fantastic right now. Helga pulled the door open and the cool, air-conditioned air washed over me. This heat was going to be the death of me.

Helga ordered a chocolate milkshake, and before she had a chance to say that we weren't together, I stuck my order of a sundae on there and paid for both of our treats. After handing the cashier a twenty and getting my change back, I joined Helga at the booth she sat at. She was looking out the window, her face pensive. Helga's cheeks were red and her face shone with sweat. I figured I looked about the same.

There was something kind of attractive about her like that, but who was I kidding, I always found her attractive.

"Why'd you say we aren't dating?" Helga asked a few minutes after I got my sundae and she got her milkshake.

"...Because we aren't?" I said, confused as to why she cared. "I don't think I'm dating you, or that you're my girlfriend."

"You make it sound like this is some on the side, summer-fling," Helga said.

I shrugged, "I don't want to make assumptions about what this is or isn't. I'll take whatever I can get."

Helga looked down into her glass, stirring the contents around with her straw before looking back up at me again. I pushed my ice cream away, not hungry any more. Helga's eyes were intense again. Did I end up offending her or something by saying we didn't have a legit relationship?

I never thought that we did, I never asked her out on a date, I never made it clear that we were boyfriend and girlfriend, we only got somewhere yesterday!

"You keep giving me that look," I said, and trying to be playful, "you're going to turn me on."

Helga's cheeks turned faintly pink as she quickly turned her head to look out the window. My phone went off, so I picked it up off the table and answered it only because it was Dad who was calling.

"Hi, Dad," I said.

"Are you still at dinner?"

"No, I haven't been for at least an hour. Mom really pissed me off, so I'm just with a friend now."

"Your little girlfriend with the bushy eyebrows?"

"She's not my girlfriend. I'll be home later, Dad, don't worry," I said, knowing Helga was watching me and listening to what I was saying.

"Whatever you say, son," Dad said before hanging up.

"I don't know why everyone keeps calling you little," I said to Helga, "'cuz you're pretty much as tall as me."

–

Those stupid share buttons are messing up my formatting‼

IN other news, July 7th or whenever I update the story, whatever ends up coming first, I'll be changing this story's rating to M, since it's pretty much running on raunch and swear words.

And again, I want to thank everyone for reviewing and adding the story to their favourites/alerts and such! Much love to you guys, I really appreciate you :)


	11. Chapter 11

"...And thanks for letting me borrow the car again," I said to Dad. The guys and I were playing another gig tonight. We weren't playing anywhere like The People's Court or opening for the likes of Gilgamesh, but word was starting to go around about us, Kevin said, so he told us to expect a decent crowd.

This summer was turning out to be better than I expected. Aside from the obvious (being in a quasi-relationship with Helga G. Pataki, the undateable), I was doing shit I only dreamed of last summer: really going places with music, doing fun shit with my friends, and getting fucked up and doing shit while fucked up. I was having a blast, and the beginning of school was coming too soon for my liking.

So the guys and I had planned one last hurrah: a weekend camping where crazy shit was bound to go down. I still had to convince Helga to go, but now that Stinky's squeeze of the week and some chick Harold wanted to bang for forever were coming, it shouldn't be that hard since she wouldn't be the only girl.

I figured I'd ask her after we played, since she agreed to come watch us play tonight as long as I got her in for free.

Once I got to the venue, turns out I couldn't get Helga in for free, so I just coughed up the fifteen bucks cover cost and told them to let the grumpy blonde girl wearing pink in. Kevin was there, setting up a table with our CDs. We always sold a few after each time we played, and it was fun to see how many people had liked us on Facebook. I think around two hundred fifty people had liked us so far.

And they left cool comments too, like, "You guys killed it at the tap house last night, I'm def going to another show!"

I didn't know if we would ever hit it big like Gilgamesh, but just being able to play for people like this was good enough for me. I truly enjoyed it.

Kevin was fussing with the table while the rest of us sat around talking to people, except for Harold, he was just drinking. Finally, I think Kevin figured that the CDs were about as straight as they were going to get, so he left the table and came over to talk to me. I took a big sip of my soda and wished it had some Jack in it.

"You've gotta play your best tonight, Sid, 'cuz Dad's coming in to see you guys. You're kinda my pet project," Kevin said.

"Gee, thanks, now you've really put the pressure on. I don't perform well under pressure," I said, rolling my eyes and taking another sip of my drink.

"Aw, man, you gotta relax! Please play well!" Kevin begged. "You know the store isn't doing so well, and after we helped Gilgamesh get signed, we got a ton of business."

"I don't think we're gonna get signed," I said, even though I sort of secretly hoped that we would. Doesn't every musician want that? But I hadn't even finished high school, and I knew I was still improving my voice and the band was still learning how to play together.

"You will if Dad likes you," Kevin shrugged.

"Kevin, just shut up, you're not helping," I muttered, grabbing my cigarettes.

"Well, Dad liked you enough to hire you," Kevin pointed out.

"That's because he thought I was a chick! When does any of this," I gestured to my unshaven face, "indicate that I'm a girl?"

"He _is_ old, and besides, you did look like a girl when you first started working here. The hair didn't help. You scream like a girl too, Sid. Thank God you finally hit puberty and your voice deepened!"

"Shut up," I pushed past Kevin and went outside to have my smoke.

Outside, I realised that I hadn't even noticed Stinky leaving the bar for the same reason. He was out there enjoying a cig as well. I walked over and leaned on the wall right next to him, bringing out my own cigarette. The night was nice, it had cooled down considerably and it wasn't very humid either.

"So who's this chick you're bringing along?"

"It's Gloria, you remember her, huh?" Stinky said.

"You're back with her?" I asked, kind of surprised.

"Yeah, we decided ta give it one more chance. I know it's dumb, but she's tha only girl I wanna be with," Stinky shrugged

"I don't think that's so dumb," I said, exhaling a cloud of smoke and not looking at Stinky. "It's how I feel 'bout Helga at least."

"Girls. Who can fig're 'em?" Stinky shrugged and ground his cigarette out on the heel of his shoe before throwing it away.

"For sure," I said.

When I finished my smoke, Stinky and I walked inside. It was nearly time for us to begin playing, so we got on stage and double checked everything. Allen and Harold joined us, and soon we got the go ahead to begin.

"Hey, how's it going you guys?" I said. Slowly, I was getting better at not being awkward on stage. "Thanks for coming out and seeing us, or if you didn't come to see us, at least not running out screamin'! The first song we're gonna play tonight is one of our favourites, Eight Mile Red Giant, so you start out with a high opinion of us."

I nodded at Stinky and he began to play. The bassline started to thump out of the speakers. Allen began to play, and then Harold and I joined in. I prayed I wouldn't make a mistake, because I had recently changed up my pedalboard's layout to make room for a few new effects pedals.

Helga didn't seem to be out in the audience, but that was okay, I didn't need the pressure of performing well for her _and_ Mr Wilcox.

"It must've been ten thousand miles that I walked/ 'Til I saw the sight/ That would make me drop to my knees/ And sleep forever/ In that sun-bleached forest," I sang.

I was really grateful that Dad had paid for voice lessons. I really had a lot more control and and range now. I thought I was good before, but I was tons better now. It was really making a difference and I think everyone could tell. Or maybe it was just that I was getting more experience playing for a live audience and I wasn't so nervous all the time. It was probably the voice lessons, though.

We continued playing and later on I noticed Helga in the crowd. She didn't look bored, but she didn't look like she really wanted to be here. I still didn't see Mr Wilcox, but to my surprise, I saw Dad standing in the back with a beer in his hand. He was nodding and tapping his foot and looked like he was really enjoying it. Maybe he was proud of me.

Music was the only thing I ever really tried at, school I could care less about. Sure, senior year I'd give enough shits to pass all my classes and graduate, but I wasn't even thinking about attending college. I knew kids whose parents made them start doing campus visits freshman year, and some earlier than that. They took all the SAT about seven times just to get a 1700. I got drunk the night before taking mine and woke up completely hungover, then took it and got that.

I know I'm smart, but being smart is just so boring for me. I'd much rather be out there playing music, or acting, or something. Sure, I could go and study for business, but that would be way too boring. Yeah, the money would be really nice, but I would probably kill myself if I was stuck in a suit everyday.

The long and short of it is I was hoping that Dad could at least be proud of me for music, since he couldn't really be proud of my school work. But I think he was proud of me. And that made me feel pretty good.

Once we were finished playing our regular set, we actually got asked to play an encore, which completely blew me away, so everyone in the band happily obliged, because, shit, peopled liked us enough to ask for more! That was pretty fuckin' awesome.

I went and found Helga after we had gotten everything packed up between the two cars. She was sitting at a table, trying to get the last few drops of soda from her glass. I sat across from her with a shit-eating grin on my face. She saw through me right away.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice shrewd.

"Next weekend a bunch of us are going camping, and I want you to come, please?" I blurted out.

"Define 'a bunch of us,'" Helga set her glass down.

"Me, Harold, Stinky, Allen, a girl named Gloria, a girl named... whatever, it's some chick Harold wants to get with and I expect Allen's gonna bring somebody, if he can find a girl at all."

"So you want me by your side so you're not all alone," Helga said.

"No... yes. And I enjoy your company. It's going to be fun. Please come?" I said, hoping I wouldn't have to break out the lip wibble and puppy dog eyes. Doing that would just demean me. But I would do it if it got Helga to come. "I mean, sure, we'll have to listen to everyone else fuck the whole time, but that's what alcohol is for, to make us forget we heard. Plus we can go swimming and hike around through nature 'n' shit."

"I'll think about it," Helga said.

I figured that was about as good as it was going to get for now, so I wouldn't push it. After giving her a half-smile and saying, "Okay," I kissed her cheek and went to find Dad, to let him know I was Allen's ride again.

–

"...And make sure you watch out for raccoons. I don't want you coming back here with rabies. Don't get a tick on you, either, and you better watch out for bears," Dad said.

"Dad, I know how to camp, okay? I doubt that anything will top that one camping trip. That was just a clusterfuck."

"Okay, well, at least take these, and have _responsible_ fun," Dad thrust a few packets of something into my hand.

I looked at what he had given me: three condoms. I almost didn't know what to say. If I was going to be in the woods with women and alcohol for three days, I would at least hope that I would need more than three condoms. Seriously, three? What does Dad take me for? Him? I'm a young man on the cusp of adulthood. I have more stamina than that.

"Thanks, Dad, these will at least hold me over until I have time to stop at the store and stock up," I said, voice deadpan.

"Wiseass," Dad replied, but he gave me a hug. "Now get the hell out of here and don't come back with a police record."

"Right, Dad," I mock saluted him, then hopped in the car, which he was graciously letting me borrow again.

All I had to do was go pick up Helga and Harold's piece of ass and then we would be on our way. Everyone but Harold was already up at the campground, because Harold had to work until five, which was kinda annoying since Harold was the one who would be bringing the most liquor. But I suppose it was a good thing that we wouldn't _really _be drinking until the evening.

I parked outside Helga's house then gave her a ring, letting her know I was here. She was out in a few minutes, carrying a duffel bag, a pillow, and a sleeping bag. I got out of the car and opened the backseat's door for her. Helga crammed her things in there.

"Do you have anything else?" I asked, wondering since we sort of had to make three people's things and tents and food and shit fit into the car.

"Yeah, a cooler full of beer and liquor and hot dogs. We'll be eatin' good up there," Helga said sarcastically.

"I'll grab that, where's it?" I asked.

"In the kitchen," Helga said.

I went into her house and grabbed it. It was empty, maybe her parents were away. I couldn't help but look around her house a little more while I was lugging the cooler around. It was nice, but that weird trophy room just looked out of place. Who would want to sit and watch tv, being surrounded by all those trophies?

Shrugging it off, I made it outside with the cooler. Helga locked up her house while I opened the trunk and put the cooler inside. Once everything was ready to go, I got back in the driver's seat and Helga took a seat in the passenger's side.

"We have to go pick up this girl Harold invited. She's gonna have to sit up front, so do you want her squeezed between the both of us, or would you rather take that spot?"

"You're asking a dumb question," Helga said. "'Course I want to be squeezed between two people. It's the best."

"Okay, okay, I get it, we'll stick the chick in the middle."

Helga smirked a little and leaned back in her seat, putting her feet up on the dashboard. That was probably the closest I'd ever seen her get to smiling. She dug into her pocket and pulled out her cigarettes, then offered one to me. I took it, even though it was menthol. The art of having a cigarette while you were driving was one I hadn't quite mastered, mostly due to the trying to extract it from the box, which was something I always failed miserably at.

I looked at the address Harold had given me, it was pretty close to where Helga lived. I hoped this girl wasn't annoying, considering the both of us had to be stuck in a car with her for an hour and a half. Harold had also written her cellphone number on the scrap of paper, so I brought out my phone and called her.

"Hello?" she asked, voice unsure.

"It's Sid, Harold's friend. I'm outside in the big, seventies, pimp car."

"Oh, I'll be out in a few minutes then," she said.

"This is a pimp car?" Helga gave me a look.

"I feel like I should have a hat with a feather on or something, driving this thing around. It's like a boat."

Helga just snorted and smirked again, looking out the window at the house.

Finally, the girl showed her face. I couldn't believe that _Harold_ of all people was going to be dicking that. She could have been a fucking supermodel for all I know. She was tall and had a fantastic sporty body and dark hair that was all wavey and shit. She was just perfect.

"You might want to put your tongue back in your mouth," Helga said as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car.

"I just... _Harold_... doing that fine gift of God... doesn't make sense," I muttered, hoping Helga would hear me and not the girl. Once I was out of the car, I popped the trunk and got started on heaving the girl's things into the trunk, which wasn't easy. It was like tetris, but with real life objects that weren't all neat squares. More like big squishy cylinders that were full of clothes.

The girl and Helga were talking while I did the man's job and dealt with luggage. I slammed the trunk shut and got back in the driver's seat once everything was all packed. The girl got in first, she just scooted up right next to me and was followed by Helga, who shut the door behind her.

"You remember Rhonda, right?" Helga said as I got a good up close look at our new passenger.

"Vaguely," I mumbled, my cheeks burning red.

I had had such a crush on this chick in elementary school, it was ridiculous how much I had liked her. I would imagine us going to my room and hugging and kissing like in the movies, because I was like, what, ten and I didn't know people ever did anything more than hug and kiss. People didn't use the internet back then. I didn't steal my first Playboy until I was eleven anyway. Not like I consider that a milestone in my life. Course I don't. Course not.

"It's going to be like some strange, fucked up elementary school reunion," Helga said, and she didn't sound thrilled.

"Why? Who else is going to be there?" Rhonda asked, raising an eyebrow as I pulled out a cigarette and lit up before driving off and getting on the highway.

"You know better than me, dick nose," Helga said, turning on the radio.

"My nose does not look like a dick," I said.

"Not by _itself,_ maybe, but your whole face is just phallic," Helga said.

"Am I really having this conversation with you?"

"Can you please tell me who else is going to be there?" Rhonda interjected.

"Harold, of course, and watch out for him, I've heard he passes out like that," I snapped my fingers to illustrate how quickly Harold could fall asleep, "after sex, and it would suck for you to get crushed. And then Stinky and some girl he wants to bone named Gloria, and Allen, who's my friend. I dunno if Allen's bringing someone or not."

"And you're sure we got a site with an electrical hookup? I thought they only had those for RVs. I'm going to be pissed if I won't be able to blow dry my hair," Rhonda complained.

"I dunno, Stinky booked it. I think there's a bathroom a mile away that you can shower at. It would probably have an outlet," I said.

"If you think I'm walking a mile just to shower," Rhonda started.

"Then you won't be showering at all, Princess. It'll be lake baths for you," Helga said, turning up the volume on the radio.

Rhonda just crossed her arms and stared stonily at the road ahead of us. It was going to be a long fuckin' drive.

–

Once we got to the campground, Stinky, Gloria, Allen, and some creepy-looking chick I didn't know were already there at the site. They had their tents set up. I manoeuvred Dad's boat-car and parked it beside Stinky's pickup.

We all burst out of the car at about the same time. All of us were sick of each other, or at least sick of Rhonda. That girl could talk and talk and talk and it would all be about _nothing_. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to say absolutely nothing meaningful during the hour and a half drive.

Around twenty minutes in, Helga and I gave up on trying to change the subjects, and just gave non-committal grunts every five minutes or so, hoping it would deter her, but it didn't. I think it encouraged her instead, not having anyone interrupt her.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Allen said.

All of them were sitting around the fire pit, but it didn't have a fire going. I suppose it wasn't dark out yet, but still, they were all sitting there and everyone of them except Gloria looked like the had already thrown back a few beers.

"Ha, ha, so funny. Get off your lazy ass and help me get all this shit outta the car," I said, popping the trunk open.

Allen groaned, but got up. Stinky got to his feet as well. Eventually, we had everything unloaded from the car. Helga had wandered off into the woods with the feminine words, "I've got to piss like a racehorse, so hand me some TP and don't look this way."

It took us about half an hour to get the tent set up. That thing was harder to set up than I remembered, but last time it was used, I barely had to help because Dad did all the work. I threw my duffel bag and Helga's duffel bag in the freshly constructed tent. I left Rhonda's three duffel bags outside, since I didn't know where she was sleeping. Besides with Harold.

Helga had returned and was sitting on a cooler, along with Rhonda and everyone else. I sat next to Helga on another cooler, but not before pulling out a beer.

"So, Allen, who's that?" I asked after taking a swig.

The girl was kinda scary, though I suppose it was fitting for Allen since he did have the whole fauxhawk and sensitive emo persuasion thing going on. She really needed to lay off the eyeliner, but she had pretty nice tits and I will admit I have a soft spot for chicks who wear collars like she had on.

"This is Carrie. We work together," Allen answered.

"Hey," Carrie gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"Hi," I said, not exactly sure what to think of her. "So when's Harold supposed to get here?"

"Dunno, sevenish, however long it takes him to load up his shit plus the hour and a half it takes to drive," Allen shrugged.

"You guys should see what I brought!" I said, laughing and getting up from the cooler I was sitting on. "We gotta look at in the tent."

I had just remembered that I had packed my bong, which the guys and I had christened Bluella. We weren't real creative there. Bluella was pretty good as far as bongs go; I had her ever since I gave Harold my Christmas money to buy her for me freshman year. I had also picked up some crazy super weed from this weird forty-year old who dealt out of his van, since my normal dealer was out of town, and Jesus, that stuff was crazy. One bowl and you were absolutely gone, just sky high.

Once we were all crowded inside the tent, I pulled Bluella out of my bag and all the guys let out a shout of, "Awright!" Gloria just looked awkward as everyone sat down in a circle. I was surprised that Helga sat down too, I didn't expect her to. Everyone seemed to be just as surprised as I was.

"Um, I don't think I'll join you guys for this. I'll go and buy some firewood for tonight," Gloria said.

Stinky got up and pulled out his wallet, "Here, darlin', money for the firewood," he said, giving her a few bills.

"Thanks," Gloria kissed his cheek, then left the tent.

"I still don't see what that girl sees in you, Stink-o," I said, pulling out the weed and packing a bowl.

"Or how you managed to not corrupt her," Allen added in, "I swear, she gives me cavities sometimes."

Stinky gave Allen a look as he sat back down, but shrugged his comment off with, "It's ma southern charm."

"Yeah, which I don't see how you have, considering you were born and raised in New York," I laughed.

"Enough talking, more smoking," Rhonda snapped her fingers.

I rolled my eyes but still got to work. Once the bowl was packed and ready to go, I hit that shit. I passed the bong to Helga, then let out the breath that I was holding. Helga just looked at the bong like what the hell am I supposed to do with this. I knew that she probably hadn't smoked since she smoked with me, but none of the guys knew that she had ever smoked with me, or smoked at all.

"Have you smoked out of a bong before?" I asked, while everyone looked on with mild interest.

"No," Helga answered, giving me a look.

"It's not that hard, just different," I said, giving her the lighter. "You light that shit up, and you gotta suck all the smoke up in the bong, and then pull this thing out, and suck all that smokey goodness inside your lungs."

"Great," Helga commented dryly.

She managed to get a lot of smoke up in the bong, but had trouble clearing it. Helga got the funniest look on her face trying to suck all that smoke up. After trying several times, she gave up and coughed for like ten minutes after she passed Bluella to Carrie. I wasn't sure if I should rub her back or something, but once I was high all my boundaries decided to throw themselves out the window, so everything sounded like a good idea and my hands were on her back doing what I thought would get her to stop coughing.

Helga was still coughing by the time the bong came back around to her, so I suggested that she go and get a drink or something. She nodded and got up, unzipping the tent and exiting. I passed the bong to Carrie again, then left the tent as well, zipping it back up.

I saw Helga rooting around in a cooler for a soda, so I took a seat on one of the other coolers. She pulled out a Yahoo and broke it open, downing the whole thing. The coughing mostly subsided after that.

"You're not gonna die, are you?" I asked.

"No," Helga just sounded bemused. "By the way, none of that helped me stop coughing."

"I know. I just wanted an excuse to touch you," I said with a grin while I pulled a beer out of the cooler.

Helga looked annoyed, but took a seat on the cooler next to mine. I had a feeling she didn't really want to go back in the tent and be surrounded by more pot smoking, and I was already blazed from two hits on that bowl, so I was good and didn't really feel like spending the rest of the afternoon too high to function.

"You having fun so far?" I asked her.

After debating with myself for several moments, I put my arm around her waist. She stiffened a little but didn't say anything about it, so I figure that it was okay, because if she wasn't happy, she'd sure as hell let me and probably the whole fuckin' campground know.

"Yeah, aside from the fact that a sleaze is trying to make a move on me," Helga said.

And there we go. I was worried for a second, that I might actually have gotten somewhere with her.

"I'm always trying to make a move on you, you're just so awesomely sexy I can't resist."

"Oh God," Helga rolled her eyes. "No wonder you never get any girls."

Oh, now she was insulting my ability to seduce the ladies? It was on. Time to be slick as fuck and show her that I would never have a problem getting chicks if I wanted any other girl beside her. Or at least get practice for the inevitable day where she says she's had enough of my shit and leaves me.

"I could get any girl I wanted," I said.

"Yeah, right," Helga laughed, and I was surprised. She had a nice laugh, even though she was laughing at me.

"Well, I got you, didn't I?"

"Only through sheer will. You were like some persistent rash and wouldn't leave me alone," Helga snorted. "And you didn't 'get' me, I decided that I would let you be with me."

"Right, because there's a difference?"

Helga looked at me like I was crazy, "There's a _huge_ difference. It wasn't because of your cheesy pick up lines that I decided to give this a shot."

"My pick up lines are not cheesy! They're dirty. And I never used a pick up line on you. I'd only use them on a girl I wouldn't want to see again."

"What a clarification. You're not as smooth as you think you are."

"Really? Because I shaved just before we left," I said with a smirk.

"God, you are such a sleaze," Helga said.

"Aw, c'mon, just feel my face," I took her hand and put it on my cheek.

"Yeah, smooth, okay, I get it," Helga said, looking at me.

Her eyes were flashing again, like they had the first time I kissed her. They were icy cold and blazing hot. I didn't know how she did it, being able to be so frigid on the outside but this huge inferno of passion on the inside. I would explode if I tried to keep all my feelings inside like that.

Of course, I was still high, so that thought just tumbled straight out of my mouth like word vomit or something, "How do you get your eyes to do that?"

"Do what?" Helga said, frowning.

"Make them look like that when you're talking to me. Boy howdy, it's kinda amazing. They're all cold and and angry but they're all hot and fiery. I don't know how to explain it, but it's just... I really like your eyes. They're like... complex. I can see something in your eyes, instead of them being just eyes."

"That's... That's so lame," Helga said, but I saw the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Yeah, lame," I mumbled, leaning in and putting my hand on her cheek.

Our lips met and that same kind of shock surged trough me. I got that feeling every time: the feeling of wanting to run around and shout, look at me, look at this girl, isn't this fantastic? Her kisses made it clear she was still unsure about all this, but they also made me want her to be completely _okay_ with this, because no one kissed like Helga. There was so much held back passion in her kisses, and it drove me nuts. It was hard as hell to keep myself restrained; to not just pull her up against me and kiss her everywhere.

Finally, I pulled away and looked to my left to see Gloria sitting in the grass on the far end of the camp, watching cars drive by. There was a pile of firewood next to her. Good old, sweet Gloria, unlike the others who were probably glued to the mosquito netting of the tent watching us make out. Or they were sitting in there contemplating their hands. Maybe they were doing that, they were pretty quiet and I didn't hear any giggling.

I peeked in the tent. Stinky was laying on his back, staring up at the top of the tent. Rhonda had her phone out and was texting. Allen, the skinny little fuck, had his shirt off with Carrie running her hands up and down his back. She kept going, "Your back is like a peach, warm and fuzzy." I bit back a laugh and motioned Helga over.

We stood there and watched Allen get his peach-back scratched for a few minutes before I went to go let Gloria know she could come back in the camp, all kissing and pot-smoking was done.

"Thanks for getting the firewood, Sid," Gloria said as we walked back into the main part of the camp.

"No problem, you carried it the whole way here," I said, dropping it right by the fire pit.

"Oh, well, actually, a nice ranger helped me out with it," Gloria said.

"Shit, really?" I said. If he walked by here, he probably smelled the pot, or saw the beer cans or is going to come back when we're drinking and get us all arrested! Dad would be so pissed! Fuck, why didn't we hide the beer cans better? Hardly any of us looked twenty-one!

"Yes and I wouldn't worry, Sid, he didn't walk near the camp. You can't see anything with all these trees, anyways," she assured me.

It still made me nervous. I decided to wait until it was dark to have more to drink. Then all we had to do was be quiet when the rangers drove by and that would hopefully keep us from getting arrested.

"So... who knows how to get a fire going?" Gloria asked. "Because I don't."

"Lots and lots of lighter fluid," Helga said.

"We have that around somewhere," I said, getting up to go look for it.

Helga threw a few logs in the fire pit while I found the lighter fluid. After giving the logs a good dousing, I took a match and tossed it on the logs. They lit up immediately.

"All right! Lets cook some wieners!" I said.

Soon we had hot dogs cooking over the fire. Carrie and Allen emerged from the tent, probably lured by the smell of the hot dogs. They said Stinky was asleep and Rhonda was bitching to people on Facebook. Well, at least we didn't have to hear her bitching out loud.

Later on, Harold arrived bearing lots of liquor. By that time, Stinky and Rhonda had come out of the tent and we were all enjoying delicious hot dogs. Harold tossed all his stuff in one of the tents, then plopped down next to Rhonda and gave her a big, sloppy kiss. Rhonda put her phone down for a second to give Harold a shove.

"Took ya long enough, Harold," Stinky said, tossing his empty beer can in the fire.

"I fuckin' know!" Harold said as he popped open a drink. "First that douchebag made me damn near scour that place and then I get this list of stuff to buy from you guys, we're only here three days! I don't know how you all expect to drink that much, I swear, that's more than a frat house goes through!"

"There's no way we drink more than a frat," Allen said indignantly. "They're the reason that every other store by the university is a liquor store."

"I couldn't afford all that shit anyway, so you guys get what you got. Now where are the hot dogs, I'm starving!"

While Harold ate and satisfied that ridiculous appetite of his, Stinky, Allen, and I check out the loot. Jägermeister, tequila, whiskey, and a bottle of decent vodka. With what Helga and Rhonda had brought, we definitely had enough to last us through the weekend, and enough that we could bring some back home with us.

Somewhere along the way, someone had set those red plastic cups on the table, you know, the ones that scream, "Hi, I'm drinking!" Either way, it was starting to get dark out, so I grabbed myself a plastic cup and poured some of the vodka in there, taking a few shots to get a good buzz going. Allen and Stinky did the same.

"Who knows any good mixed drinks?" I asked once I felt I had taken enough shots. "I mean, yeah, we can always just pour some soda in there, but that's boring."

"I think you're shit outta luck," Helga said. "We didn't bring a lot besides alcohol, soda, and Red Bull."

"We should play a drinking game," Carrie said.

"Like what?" Stinky said.

"Circle of Death," Carrie said, coming over to get herself a mixed drink. "I have a deck of cards, it's real easy and you get real drunk."

"I'm up for it," Allen said.

"Yeah, listen to your chick, Allen!" Harold laughed, making a whip sound.

"Well, she's wearing a collar," I pointed out to Harold.

"And what the hell does that mean?" Harold demanded.

"That's she's the submissive," I laughed. "She's the one who gets whipped."

"You watch too much bad porn, Sid," Stinky gave me a shove.

We all got our drinks and took seats on the picnic table. I discreetly put my arm around Helga's waist again while Carrie shuffled the deck, then spread all the cards out on the table top. After getting the cards just so, she put a beer can in the middle of the card circle, sticking the two jokers under the tab.

"After you've pulled your card, you stick it under the tab, and whoever pops the can has to chug the beer," she said, "and I'll explain the cards as you pull them. I'll go first."

Carrie picked up a card and squinted at it in the firelight, then went, "Four, whores! All the girls take a drink."

Gloria, Helga, and Rhonda exchanged looks, but took sips of their drinks. Gloria was only drinking a Coke though. Carrie took a big gulp of her drink, then gave Allen a shove, telling him to go.

Allen picked up a card and showed it to Carrie, saying, "It's a nine."

"Nine, rhyme," Carrie quipped. "You say a word, then we go around the circle and say a word that rhymes with it. If you can't come up with a word right away, you have to drink."

"Oh... uh... book," Allen said.

"Look," Rhonda said.

"Shook," Harold said.

"Uh," Stinky hesitated, so we all told him to drink, which he did.

"Okay, Rhonda, your turn," Carrie said.

"It's a Queen," Rhonda said.

"You're Question Master. If you ask someone a question, and they answer, then they have to drink."

"Really, all I have to do is get someone to answer a question I ask?" Rhonda said.

"Yeah," Carrie answered

"Ha! Drink, Carrie!"

I couldn't see her face too well since it was pretty dark, but I could tell Rhonda was smirking. Carrie took a sip of her drink while Harold picked a card. It was a three.

"Three, me, you drink, Harold," Carrie said.

It went along in this fashion until I pulled my card.

"It's an ace," I said, seeing as we hadn't had that card before.

"Ugh, God, I hate that one, waterfall. You start drinking, then I'll start drinking, and then Allen, and so on and we all can't stop until the person before us stops."

"Wow, that's brutal, because I can really chug," I grinned, putting my cup to my lips and downing my drink.

I put my empty cup back down. Carrie made a face and placed her cup back on the table, with everyone else soon following suit, all complaining about how awful that was. I knew that pretty soon, that drink would be hitting me like a fucking train, so I put my other hand on Helga's shoulder and leaned in close to her ear.

"I'm gonna be... like, smashed real soon, so if I do anything stupid, don't hold it against me," I told her. "I... hey, hey, everyone, wait! I need to refill ma drank!"

I extracted myself from the table and stumbled over to the coolers, mixing myself another drink that was probably about ten times stronger than before. Once I had stuck myself right between Carrie and Helga again, I announced that the game could continue.

And continue it did. Gloria ended up being the one to pop the tab on the beer, but Stinky drank it for her.

Helga pulled a ten, which was categories. She thought for a second, then said, "Swedish metal bands."

"Not fair!" Rhonda cried out.

Harold gave a grunt of pain; Rhonda probably elbowed him in the gut or something.

"Yeah, not very fair," he muttered.

"Too bad, Princess! Sabaton," Helga said.

"Witchcraft!" I blurted out, even though they were more classic rock revival.

"Armon Arath!" Carrie said.

"Grand Magus!"

"Like I fuckin' know!" Rhonda said angrily, taking a sip of her drink. "We should do my category. Designer labels, I bet you couldn't do that!"

"I bet you I could!" Helga answered.

"Fine, I'll start," Rhonda said. "Hermès."

"Prada," Helga fired back before anyone else could ask if this was going around the circle.

"Chanel," Rhonda said.

"Michael Kors," Helga said.

This went on until Helga stuttered. Rhonda gave a petty laugh while Helga took a sip of her drink. I was surprised that Helga knew so many brands and I think Rhonda was too. After that, the game kind of dissolved and we chatted for a while, recounting stories that were much funnier smashed and talking about subjects that you never talk about sober.

Helga must have been feeling the effects of the alcohol because she had wrapped _her_ arm around me and was tapping her fingers on my side. I wanted to take advantage of this so bad, but every time I even thought about thinking about it, I kept seeing Dad's face saying, "You _never_ take advantage of a girl who's drunk." I know he meant fucking her, but I saw his stupid face when I thought about kissing Helga. He had parented me too well.

I couldn't take it for too much longer, so I stood straight up, freaking out everyone at the table. As I pulled my legs out, I explained that I really wanted to sing. I said I was gonna play a song, so as soon as I was free from the table, I ran and grabbed my acoustic guitar from the car.

Except all the songs that came to mind reflected what was going through my mind: Crazy Bitch, I Get Off, Spaceship...

"What are you gonna play?" Carrie asked.

By now, she was sitting in Allen's lap, her arms around his neck. I could tell that everyone was looking at me and expecting me to play soon, but I couldn't think of any song that didn't revolve around sex.

"Um, someone suggest something or else I'm just gonna sit here," I started strumming the guitar, "going, _God_, I gotta hard-on! Alcohol makes me wanna take my clothes off! Let's have sex!" I sang in the goofiest voice possible.

"Wow, Sid," Helga said, and I couldn't tell if she was annoyed or thought that it was funny.

"That was awful," Rhonda was reduced to giggles.

Then someone suggested Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody because everyone could sing along, so soon enough we were all belting out, "Oh, Mama Mia, Mama Mia, Mama Mia let me go!" The other campers probably hated us, I swear to God. We were being absolutely ridiculous.

Soon enough, to no one's surprise, Rhonda and Harold retired to their tent. We just sang louder to drown out the sounds coming from their tent. That seemed to be the cue for Allen and Carrie to go straight for their tent too, leaving Stinky, Gloria, Helga and I sitting around the fire, the only couples tonight who wouldn't be getting any.

We talked until the fire had near burned itself out, then Gloria said she was tired and was going to bed. Stinky soon followed suite, so Helga and I mutually agreed to let them have _some_ time to themselves.

"So are you still having fun?" I asked Helga. I could tell that she was definitely drunk, maybe even more hammered than me, which is a first because I tend to get pretty hammered.

"Better than watching The Wheel with Bob," Helga shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. "So... you're drunk, and I'm drunk, and you're not all over me. This should be, like, your sleaze dream come true."

"I know. But if I ever have sex with you, which you know I really, really want, I'd want to be sober for that. It's the sober sex that counts, and 'sides, my dad gave me a big lecture about not taking advantage of girls who are drunk saying it would, like, save my ass or something and every time I think about making a move on you, I just hear him lecturing me."

"Wow, your Dad actually instilled values in you," Helga smirked.

"I know, it's amazing considering I'm pretty much a hopeless case when it comes to morals," I said with a laugh.

Helga laid her head on my shoulder, which made me stop laughing. I looked up at the sky and stared at the stars for a while, realizing now that I had stopped being my belligerent drunk self, it was pretty nice out here, dark enough to see the stars, at least, which you never saw in the city. All you got was sickly orange barf-glow.

We probably stayed like that, with Helga resting her head on my shoulder and my arm around her, until I realised that I was about to fall asleep, so we kicked off our shoes and snuck into our tent, doing our best not to fall over and wake up Stinky and Gloria.

–

God, what idiot was knocking on my bathroom door? Couldn't Dad tell that I was taking a shower? The water was running and everything, it was obvious! I turned off the shower and shouted at him, asking him what the hell he wanted that couldn't wait until I was out of the shower while wrapping a towel around my waist. When I opened the door, Helga stood there instead of Dad.

"What.. what are you doing here?" I asked her, making sure the towel around my waist was secure.

Helga just shrugged, her arms crossed. She wasn't dressed normally, in fact, she would never dress like she was dressed now. She had on towering pencil heeled platforms, a tight pencil skirt, and a shimmery shirt with a plunging neckline. Her hair was like she had it on prom night, wavey and covering one of her eyes. Her lips were bright red. That kind of made her look amazing, with those perfect red lips and those ice blue eyes.

"Come on," she said, and her voice was commanding.

Helga turned around and walked to the bed. I couldn't help but watch her ass as she walked. It was like, the most perfect thing to ever exist. She sat on the bed and crossed her legs, putting one hand on her thigh.

"Are you coming?" Helga asked.

"Where?" I asked, confused.

"To bed with me," Helga grinned.

I could barely contain my excitement (literally) as I walked over to my bed and sat next to her, putting my hand over hers on her thigh. We leaned into each other and I started to kiss those perfect red lips. I didn't even care that I would get red lipstick all over my face because it was worth it. Helga wound her hands up in my wet hair and soon enough we were all up in my sheets together.

Opening my eyes, I realised that I had been asleep (which was totally bogus, because that had been a good dream). Rain was softly falling on top of the tent, and the light was weak, so I figured that it was probably early in the morning. Helga was asleep next to me, tangled up in her sleeping bag and lying on her stomach with her face scrunched up by the pillow. On my right, Stinky was sleeping. I didn't know how I had managed to fall asleep, that guy snored louder than Dad, and that's pretty loud. Gloria was curled up next to him with only her blonde hair peeking out of the sleeping bag.

Harold and that one chick, Rhonda, were probably in their own tent, the same with Allen and his creepy collar girl. Like we hadn't heard them last night, going at it. The whole campsite probably heard them.

I sat up and ran my hand through my hair, raking my fingers through the snarls. The rain wasn't hitting the top of the tent any more, so I got to my feet and stuck on my shoes, leaving the tent as quietly as I could.

Once I was outside, I wandered off into the trees to take a piss. After that was done, I reached inside the tent and grabbed my pack of smokes. It was relaxing, to just stand there and have some time to myself and be alone with my thoughts and all that shit. Plus the first cigarette of the day is always the best.

A few minutes later, Helga emerged from the tent, looking all dishevelled like people do when they just wake up. She trudged over to me and took the cigarette straight out of my mouth, sticking it in-between her own sleep swollen lips.

"This is mine now. Get on making coffee," she bent over and wiped the rain off the top of a cooler before sitting down.

"Slave driver," I muttered.

"I wouldn't be such a slave driver if someone hadn't decided we should play a drinking game last night."

"I wasn't the one who decided we were playing a drinking game. And besides, if you're hungover, you shouldn't be drinking coffee!" I said, even though I was getting the fire started the best I could with the rain soaked wood.

"Who said I was hungover? I just want to get you back for all the awkward drunk talk we made, now get on that coffee," Helga broke a thin branch off a nearby tree and swung it through the air like a whip.

I grumbled under my breath about her while I held the pot over the fire. Once the water began to boil, I threw the coffee in and let it seep. Helga got out two mugs. When I decided it had been about five minutes, I brought the pot off the fire and threw some cold water in there before pouring the coffee into the two mugs.

Helga took her mug and started into it for a while, watching the steam rise. I blew the steam away and gingerly sipped my coffee, trying my best to not burn my tongue. This was nice, just the two of us. We didn't have to say anything at all, we could both enjoy our coffee and the silence and each other and nature 'n' shit. Mushy, gooey junk like that.

"Any chance of you graduating this year?" Helga asked.

"Course I'm gonna graduate!" I said. "I'll actually do my homework or whatever it takes to do well in school. Maybe they'll actually do a good school play this time. I suggested Urinetown last year but they were like, no, we're gonna do Cinderella and I was like, fuck you, well, I'll just fail out of drama by not helping out with the musical!"

"It is high school," Helga pointed out, like I didn't know. "It's not as if it's a font of philosophical wisdom."

"Yeah, I s'pose that's why I'm just that kid everyone buys from. Too damn philosophic for them."

"I doubt that. You're too much of a freak for them."

"High school doesn't make sense. You're like the god of the whole school, only because you have tits and a great ass. They don't care about who you are besides your tits. It's like the whole thing is designed to teach us how to cultivate an image that's nothing like ourselves—"

"Aww, are the two lovebirds having a little chat?" Harold's voice interrupted my thought.

"God, put a shirt on, you fat fuck," I snapped at Harold, not happy at being interrupted.

Harold yelled at me for calling him a fat fuck, but rooted around in the coolers for something to cook for breakfast. Helga looked off into the distance while she pushed her hair out of her face with her hand. I sounded like some fairy saying it, but I loved that girl. I felt like I could just say whatever to her and she would let me know if it was utter bullshit or not. She was ruining me. I couldn't be that emotionally attached to her, when we both knew that this quasi-relationship would end sooner or later. I felt like a dog that had caught the car it had chased after for so long. I didn't know what to do now that I had gotten what I had longed for.

–

I just realised I have Harold eating hot dogs. Let's say they sprang and got all beef hot dogs.

I always forget what I want to say before I get a chance to write it down, so here a few thoughts I have about things in general that I've written before being completely done with the story, you should probably ignore them as ramblings:

Every time I see Sid's name, I think of Sid Vicious. The name _Slow Turning Tide_ is from the Rival Sons' song "Memphis Sun". Go and check out that band right now because they are fantastic.

I had a whole section here where I rambled on about my sexcapades because I thought it related to camping, and it did, but none of you guys want to hear that.

Um, I also like how Sid is head over heels for Helga and thinks he's seen all there is to her, but still has yet to see her mushy interior.

I thought this would average about 4000 words and then I write this 8k+ behemoth... I like how I can bang out 4k words easily for this story, but have trouble with 2k words for school papers. LOL.

AND OTHER RAMBLINGS.


	12. Chapter 12

I shouldn't have taken that shower. Once the rain cleared up, the sun came out and soon it was a muggy, hot, miserable mess. With the heat, I was already soaked with sweat by the time I had walked the mile back to the campsite. That helped a lot. It was a real refreshing and overall pleasant walk. I even had my hair up off my neck in a ponytail and was walking around in board shorts with no shirt on and it was still unbearably hot. Damn this weather. Damn it all to hell.

The camp was oddly quiet when I reached it. The fire had burned out and either everyone was asleep again or gone some place else. I used my towel to wipe off my face and neck, then slung it over a low-hanging branch so it could dry out. Insects hummed and made those insect noises that always make you go, damn, it's summer, I can't sleep 'cuz the cicadas are so loud, you know, summery sounds.

I pulled a can of beer out of a cooler and stuck it on the back of my neck for a few minutes. It felt nice. I was already covered in sweat again. It probably wasn't a good idea to be drinkin' beer on a day so hot but I figured I'd follow up with some water and it would cancel the beer out and all would be well.

As I was about pop it open, I heard Helga's voice coming from inside the tent. She was talking to herself or some crazy shit. I sat still for a minute, listening to what she was saying. It was some sort of poem or prose or something. She wrote beautifully. I was kinda in awe, I mean, I knew the chick liked to write, because only idiots who like writing work on the school newspaper, but I didn't know she did stuff other than, "Go Trojans! Won 28 to 16 Last Night!"

"Upon a grey winter's morn your hand first encircled mine/ Betwixt our fingers, through clouded eyes/ Did I see a bow upon your finger, a red line/ Drawn to my very own hand and soft as a sigh,"

She stopped talking when I inadvertently sneezed. Seconds later the tent was unzipped and Helga stuck her head out, glaring at me.

"Don't stop on account of me. You write well," I said, deciding that I might as well pop my beer open now.

"Thanks, I guess. But that was private," Helga said, crossing her arms.

"Then why were you readin' it out loud?"

"Because I thought I would have a few minutes to myself!" she snapped

"Where's everyone else?" I asked.

"They went to the lake."

"And you didn't go?"

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," Helga said

"Well, just go swimmin' in your underwear. Wear a shirt over it or something," I suggested.

"I'm sure you'd like that," Helga rolled her eyes.

"You kiddin'? I would love it."

"Well, let's see. I deliberately chose not to bring a swimsuit when I knew we would be going some place with a lake. What does that tell you?"

"That you probably don't want to go swimming with all my dickhead friends. Whatever, who cares, it's hot as hell. You're gonna die in that tent."

"Or I could just let everyone in the whole fucking campground see me in my underwear," Helga's hair was slicked back with sweat and she looked miserable.

"Hmm... underwear or heatstroke? Underwear or heatstroke?" I said, moving my hands up and down like a scale, as if I was weighing the two options.

Helga narrowed her eyes at me, looking me up and down. I wasn't quite sure what she was doing, so to be silly, I held up my arm and flexed, trying to look all buff and hot.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Trying to decide if I should bring Ol' Betsy and the Five avengers out of retirement," she said.

"Who?"

"My fists, stupid!"

"Oh," I shrugged and took a swig of beer.

"And you should really put a shirt on. I've never seen anyone that hairy in my entire life," Helga had stepped out of the tent and had gotten herself a drink from the cooler.

"What?" I looked down at my chest. "I'm not that hairy."

"Yes, you are. Instead of a goodie trail, you've got a fuckin' welcome mat sitting on your chest."

"It means I'm virile," I said.

"No, it means you're hairy, Sasquatch," Helga smirked a little.

"I take offence to that. If we were in the seventies, I would be considered even more attractive and handsome than I already am."

"Well, we're not, so you're just..." Helga trailed off and took a sip of her drink.

"Just what? Handsome? Good-looking? Sexy fine?"

"Average," Helga muttered.

I couldn't tell if she was blushing or if that was just the heat. I decided not to flatter myself and say that it was the heat causing her cheeks to be so flushed. Helga pushed her hair out of her face then wiped sweat away from her upper lip. She looked like she was gonna pass out or something.

"Are you feeling okay?" I asked, getting up and sitting next to her.

"It's hot as balls," Helga said, drinking the rest of her water.

"Yeah, you seriously look like you're going to pass out though, I can't imagine how hot you must be. I feel like I'm gonna die and I only have shorts on," I said.

"I'm fine," Helga insisted, but I got up and grabbed a few cool drinks from a cooler, then put them against her neck.

Helga made a face and wiggled around, trying to get the cold cans off her skin. In the end I guess I forgot I was trying to help her cool down because I started trying to stick the cans against her cheeks, attempting to be playful or some shit like that. She kept telling me to stop but I wouldn't so in the end she shoved me right off the cooler.

"Hey!" I said, then grabbed her arm and pulled her off the cooler on top of me.

"What do you think—" Helga groaned and got up. "You think you're being funny?"

She turned away from me and crossed her arms. I sat up and rubbed my head, then brushed off the dirt that was sticking to my sweaty skin. I felt sheepish.

"Sorry," I said as I stood.

"Damn right, you're sorry!" Helga said.

"Hey, I really am," I said, walking up to her and putting my hands on her shoulders.

Then I felt the cold sear on my chest; Helga had somehow grabbed the cold cans and was getting sweet revenge. I laughed and backed up as she grinned wickedly. She managed to get both cans pressed against my cheeks and I was still backing up, trying to get away from her when I tripped over a cooler and toppled backwards, taking her out with me.

I landed on my back and got the wind knocked out of me but I was fine after a few moments. Helga looked kind of stunned, then laughed a little. She truly did have a nice laugh. I started to laugh too, then put my hands on her head and kissed her. It didn't even matter than I was pretty much lying in mud (which I didn't mind all that much since there was still a part of me that was a nine-year-old boy who loved mud and ick) or that we were all sweaty or that I would probably have an impressive bruise on my back (Funny that I always seemed to end up bruised around her). I was kissing Helga Pataki. And Helga Pataki was a pretty damn good kisser.

"Wow, get a room," Harold's voice interrupted us.

We both looked up to see Harold standing there in his shorts with an odd expression on his face.

"Fuck off, Harold!" Both Helga and I shouted at the same time.

"Jesus, back off, I just came to get some more drinks!" Harold put up his hands. "Or do you want everyone to die of dehydration?"

Helga had gotten off me and was walking away from Harold, getting ready to seal herself back inside the tent. I could tell that she was embarrassed or angry or something other than happy (that makes me sound real perceptive). Harold gave me a look as he grabbed a cooler and hefted it up with his ham arms. Then he left, grumbling about something or other.

I unzipped the tent and then zipped it back up once I was inside. Helga was sitting on a sleeping back with her arms crossed. I sat next to her, not quite sure what to say. It seemed like she couldn't stand anyone else knowing that we were together. I get that Harold seeing us making out on the ground could be mildly embarrassing, but hell, we had to listen to Harold having sex, loudly, explicitly, and multiple times last night. If he didn't care, the she shouldn't care.

"You're covered in dirt," Helga said, looking at my back.

"Well, I was on the ground. You tend to get covered in dirt when you're rolling around on the ground," I smirked.

"If you get my sleeping bag all muddy," Helga started to brush the dirt off my back.

"We're camping. Everything's going to get dirty and smell weird."

"Then I'm going to sleep on your sleeping bag. You can sleep on the ground."

"I'm not giving up my sleeping bag. We can share it," I accompanied that statement with an eyebrow wiggle.

"Ew," Helga gave me a shove.

"You can find out if I'm this hairy _everywhere_."

"Shut up!" Helga shoved me again. "Do you want to scar me for life?"

"How can you not find all this attractive?" I gestured to myself.

"I never said that you're not attractive!" Helga said, "I just don't want to think about you and your fucking pubes. How is that sexy? Seriously."

"So you think I'm good-looking?"

"Don't push it," Helga gave me a look.

"Well, I think you're good looking. You look like an angel that fell from heaven."

"Oh, please."

"Less cheese? I love the way your shoulders look, and how they turn into your collar bones and slope into your arms," I scooted a little closer to her and gently placed a kiss on her shoulder, even though it was covered up by a t-shirt. "I love the way your wrists look and how you always paint your nails pink." I took her hand and raised it to my lips. By now Helga was staring resolutely ahead of her with blush creeping over her cheeks. "I love your legs and how they lead to your ankles and your tiny little feet." I wasn't about to kiss her feet because I wasn't that sexually deviant, but I did put my hand on her knee. "And you already know I love your eyes."

"Still cheesy," Helga said softly.

"Maybe I should quit while I'm ahead and show you what I mean. You're the writer here, not me," I gently put my thumb and pointer finger on her chin, turning her face towards mine so I could kiss her.

It was like we were the only two people in the world, when I was like this with her. Nothing mattered but that moment right then, and the moment after it and before it didn't exist. Time was frozen but passed so quickly.

Helga was holding herself back, she didn't make any moves at all. I was holding myself back because I didn't want to do anything that would ruin the moment and make her angry at me. I didn't know what she was comfortable with, but I guess that was a moot point, since I had already taken the biggest chance of all, falling in love with her in the first place.

I pushed her hair out of the way so I could look into her eyes. I expected them to be all icy and hot at the same time, like they were when she was all passionate, but they were sort of filmy and soft and almost... sweet. It was kind of weird and I felt odd since I was all, unf, if you get my drift, while she wasn't unf at all.

So I tried to switch gears, you know, kissing her all soft and sweet and tender and loving and shit. It was probably good idea too, because I wasn't really comfortable having only a sheet of nylon be the barrier between my dick and the outside world when I was doing that kind of stuff with a girl like her. But Helga did the same thing, pushing my hair out of my face before she wrapped her hand in my hair, pulling my head back a little as she bit my bottom lip.

Oh, God. She was going to destroy me. She needed to make up her mind. Did she want this to be all sweet and romantic or hot and heavy? Jesus.

I pulled her on top of my lap, but not close enough that she was sitting on my hard-on, because that would be awkward. I didn't want that. Helga had sunk her nails into the skin on the back of my neck as she kept biting the bottom of my lip. I pulled away and buried my face in the crook of her neck and stayed like that for a second. She smelled good, kind of like incense but smokier.

Her neck was so inviting, so I kissed it. Helga made a little sound, kind of like a sigh and ran her hand from my neck over my should and down my front. I really wanted to give her a hickey, but I knew that she probably wouldn't like that, so I pushed her shirt collar over a little, and gave her a hickey there, where it would be covered up by her clothes.

Helga sighed again and pulled back. I shouldn't have given her that hickey. She pushed her shirt back to look at the forming bruise. I had a sheepish look on my face. Helga muttered something about fair's fair and started to kiss my neck.

I couldn't keep quiet because that's something I really like, and it was weird, for once, I was being the loud one and Helga was all quiet. I was used to girls being loud, but maybe I was just warped because my dad liked screamers.

And she gave me the biggest fucking hickey right smack dab in the middle of my neck. I saw it the next day when I went to shower and it was about the size of Texas. It was shaped a little like Texas too. After that, she pulled back and pushed her hair out of her face again.

I didn't know if she wanted to keep going but I figured that she was finished when she got up and went to unzip the tent.

"You going to have a cigarette with me?" she asked.

For a second, I wasn't sure what to do, seeing as I had a raging hard-on. But then I figured she had already noticed it, and there wasn't anyone else around and I could just think unsexy thoughts and hope that it went away without any other attention, so I got up and followed her out of the tent.

I sat across from her at the picnic table and pulled a cigarette out, then lit up. Helga did the same. She spent a long time staring out into the woods looking pensive and shit.

"I think I'm going to quit," Helga said, "Once we go back to school."

"Smoking?" I asked.

"No, breathing. Yes, smoking!" Helga was sarcastic.

"Oh, why?"

Helga shrugged, "I do it, and now I don't want to do it any more."

"That's not really an explanation, me, I dunno, I've come to enjoy it. If I could have a cig in my hand for all eternity, I'd be happy."

"Well you already liked smoking," Helga said.

"Shut up! It confuses me, the nuances of the word 'smoking!'" I said, jokingly.

"Whatever, it's... my whole family relies on their fucking vices to get by. And smoking was... is my vice," Helga twirled the cigarette around in her fingers. "I don't want to use it to deal with everything because that's not really dealing with it at all."

"I think I get what you're saying, but you make it sound like you're an alcoholic or something."

Helga shrugged and tossed the burned down cigarette into the fire pit, "I guess I'm just done relying on something other than myself to make me happy."

"Are we still talking about quitting smoking?"

"No, not really," Helga said, taking a sip of her drink.

"Well, what are we talking about? You know I have like, this hidden psychologist mode. Besides, it's not like I really want to spill your deepest darkest secrets to my assclown friends. I haven't told them that I like My Little Pony. I'd never live that down."

"I don't think what I was talking about is anything like revealing that you like a show made for little girls."

"Why do I have a gut feeling that it's about... Arnold?" I said, knowing that would elicit a response from her.

Just not the response I expected. Helga got to her feet. She spent a few minutes staring at the woods with strangely empty eyes. I had expected her to punch me, or snap and call me a bastard or something like that. It was kinda creepy, her reaction. It was too blank to feel like _Helga_.

"It is," Helga shrugged again and turned to look at me.

"Well, what about him?"

"It was hard enough to tell at least one person about it, and you're not the person I chose to tell," Helga said. "I... don't really know how to explain everything to you. I just don't want to use him as my coping strategy any more. I don't want him to define me, I want to be my own person, Helga, the girl who loves to write and read Dave Eggers and watch wrestling and who secretly wants to be president one day, not Helga, the girl who loves Arnold Shortman so much it hurts.

"I realize now, that I based everything I was on how much I loved him. And that's something I never want to happen again, to define myself by the man I love. I told someone once I loved jazz, just because he loved jazz. And I _hate_ that fuckin' music," she muttered.

For a while, I didn't know exactly what to say. That was the most open she had ever been with me. It was surprisingly nice, but also disturbing because it started to reveal that she was head over heels for that douche Arnold. How could I, being Sid, the weird kid who plays in that band and sells good weed, compete with that? Arnold saved the neighbourhood. Arnold solved everyone's problems. Arnold got everyone's pity when his grandparents died and he went to go live with his socially inept cousin. Arnold saves kittens and reads to orphans and makes grandmothers smile and shits rainbows and happiness.

"You look like you're about to punch someone's lights out," Helga turned around to look at me, arms crossed.

"Yeah. Maybe," I said, my voice terse. "How... how can you love him so much?"

"I-I don't want to tell you," Helga faced away from me again. "Just know that loving him helped me through some serious shit, but the thing is, I don't know who I am without him. And that scares me. I, uh, I once thought that I didn't love him at all, and I was _nothing_. I had nothing, no inspiration, no happiness, nothing. I feel like that's just wrong. My inspiration should come from inside, from my experiences and feelings and ideas, and not someone else's. And to let my happiness be dictated by a single person; I don't want it. I need to define my own terms. I need to be my own person and choose my own way for happiness... and I figure that that way doesn't include him."

"That's an impressive soliloquy," I said.

My blood was boiling and I didn't know why. Well, of course I knew why. Even though Helga was all, well, I really want to get over Arnold, she still _loved_ him and that was something she didn't feel for me. She was probably going out with me out of pity! Because she thought that I was like her, pathetically in love with someone who wouldn't love me back and she thought she would cheer me up by giving me a few moments to cherish.

Not that I wanted her to love me forever or anything. Who knows what I really wanted, being eighteen and not even out of high school yet. I guess I was just jealous of Arnold because I knew that Helga would always have feelings for him. He could have been the worst guy ever and she would still have feelings for him.

"Yeah," Helga mumbled. "You still sound pissed off. Look, what I'm trying to say is that I'm trying to move on."

"Well, we're young and stupid. What's love anyway?" I tried to shrug the jealously off.

Helga came and sat down next to me, pulling her knees up to her chest. She looked sad and thoughtful at the same time. And it was like I saw the end. I knew that sometime, Helga and I would be finished. We weren't built to last. One day Arnold would waltz back into her life and it would be like her and I never happened. I felt sort of betrayed that she had kept this from me. Would knowing about her feelings for Arnold have kept me from still pursuing her? Maybe, maybe not, but it sure would hurt a lot less if everything had been laid out on the table and I knew exactly what I was getting into.

"I'm going to go for a walk, see what the guys are doing down at the beach," I said, getting to my feet.

"I guess I can drag myself down to the beach," Helga rolled her eyes and stretched. "But I'm not going swimming."

"Actually, I'd rather just go there by myself for now. You can always drop by later, y'know, after you have some private poetry time," I said, mustering a grin and kissing Helga's cheek.

"Oh, yeah, right," Helga looked a little surprised but she covered it up quickly. "I wouldn't want to hang out with, what was that word you used... oh, yeah, your assclown friends anyway."

"Heh... that's what I thought. See you later, Helga," I said.

And after grabbing my smokes and cellphone, I walked away.

–

My first boyfriend was SO HAIRY. He was a weird little guy besides (thought I was my roommate for the whole time we dated and had this funky little walk, it was his Colin-Walk). But I have never again seen or met anyone as hairy as he. I swear he was a bear in a past life.

I think I just attract weird fellows, because looking back on it, I've dated a bunch of weird-ass people.

Speaking of people I've dated, I realized not too long ago that this creepily parallels me and another guy. I started off with a really bad impression of him, then we started talking and he was pretty neet, as well as giving off obvious, "I like you" signals that I would just ignore until I was like, well, let's give it a shot.

I had to break it off for several reasons, but we both decided once we're back at school we'll give it another chance maybe, because I've worked out a lot of my issues and had other personal revelations that pertain to our relationship and he still really likes me so LET'S HOPE IT WORKS OUT, BECAUSE THAT'D BE PEACHY KEEN.

He's from California. And goes to uni in Iowa. Who in their right mind LEAVES California for IOWA? I suppose it's because the school has the writers workshop and he's a writer but one of my friends is from California and going to become a nurse so there's no reason to leave never falls below 50 degree weather for a place that gets all four seasons in spades. Maybe it's all that medical marijuana messing with their heads.

I'll stop talking now.

Oh! and I forgot to add the Helga like Dave Eggers thing is def a shout out to One Fine Wire's fic Can Anybody Find Me? I nearly forgot to add that in!

And a second thing while I think about it, I always imagine Sid's singing-voice sounding like the singer's of Lo-Pan's. Check out their song Spartacus. And then the rest of their band sounding like a smash between Rival Sons and White Wizzard. But maybe that's just me.

Jeez, my A/N's are degenerating into gossip about my life sessions. I need to find another outlet for things like that, lol.


	13. Chapter 13

"Hey, Sid, you made it!" Allen shouted when he saw me walking down the path towards the beach.

"Yeah man! Who doesn't love drinking on the beach?" I said.

The beach wasn't very crowded, probably because everyone else realised that it was better to seek the cool, sweet, loving embrace of air conditioning on a day like today. All the guys, Gloria, and Carrie were dicking around in the water while Rhonda lounged on a towel and thumbed through Vogue. I grabbed a bottle of coke that I knew had liquor mixed in it and sat down on the sand next to Rhonda. She barely glanced up from her magazine.

"You're being unusually quiet, considering how rowdy you were last night," Rhonda commented dryly. "That is the biggest damn hickey I've ever seen."

I covered my neck up with my hair before shrugging, "It's too hot to be all excited."

"It's too hot to be drinking."

"But drinking makes it all go away," I said and followed it through with a big gulp of my mixed drink, which tasted like piss by the way.

"Was it that bad with Helga? Everyone knows the secret is foreplay," Rhonda turned to the next page in her magazine.

"What? No... we didn't. It's something else."

"Like what? You have erectile dysfunction?"

"Are you still mad at me for crashing that party of yours years ago?" I gave Rhonda a look.

"No, I'm not that spiteful... and just to let you know, we never got that stain out of the carpet. We had to recarpet the whole room."

I grimaced, "If I only I remember what happened that night."

"You are such a fuckin' delinquent, I would have never dreamed of coming to a dry party _drunk_ in eighth grade. My _parents _were there."

"Yeah, that kinda cemented my identity as the bad seed," I shrugged but pursed my lips together before finishing off the rest of the bottle. Not that I'm trying to excuse my behaviour or anything, but my parents had spent most of the year duking it out about their divorce so I wasn't in the best of mindsets. Plus, I was thirteen, just discovering my love of women, and Rhonda was still on my mind at that point in time. I thought that by showing up, I could woo her. Boy howdy, did I think wrong. After that it's all a blur, but I'm told it wasn't pretty. "I have a lot higher tolerance than four beers now at least, and the liver to prove it."

"Sid! Stop chatting up my girlfriend and get your ass out here!" Harold yelled at me.

I looked sidelong at Rhonda who shook her head no with a small smirk.

"He is delusional," she said with a dramatic sigh, then turned the page of her magazine. "I'll have to have a little chat with him later on."

Once I had tossed the bottle away and left my non-waterproof phone and cigarettes with Rhonda to be safe, I ran and cannonballed into the lake. The water was warm, but still a lot cooler than the air outside, so it was rather refreshing.

"I was wondering when you'd come down," Stinky said.

"Hey, you'd know I'd get around to it," I laughed and gave Stinky a shove.

–

"So tomorrow is our last day of freedom," I said.

Helga shrugged. We had been watching wrestling for the past few hours at her house. Well, really, it was more of me pointing out every five minutes that it was a fake sport and Helga getting increasingly mad at me until things culminated in a sharp slap to my shoulder and I shut up. Right now, she was laying on top of my arm and cutting off circulation with her bony shoulders. I'm pretty sure she was doing it on purpose. I had my arm wrapped around her waist and we were being all boyfriend-girlfriend like.

"Yeah, I'm so disappointed to not have to spend the whole day here, loafing around and watching tv interspersed with the sound of Miriam's blender," Helga said.

"You should have hung out with me more."

"And be around your weird dad? Yeah, right. Besides, you're always off doing something."

"Not always. I'm here with you right now, and I'm willing to take time out of my busy, busy schedule to spend with you," I said to her neck.

"Big fucking deal," Helga rolled over away from me.

What the hell was that? Jeez, I mean, it's not like I was surprised or anything, I knew she could be a bitch and all that but it was that strong personality that sort of got me attracted to her in the first place. A chick with balls. That's always been kind of hot. Not a girl literally having balls, but being all stand up to shit and things like that.

"What's got your panties all in a knot?" I asked Helga's back.

"Nothing," she muttered.

"Well something's got you all mad," I said.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Helga asked suddenly, startling me.

Ah, so she had caught on. Maybe it hadn't been intentional at first, but after the camping trip I realised that I had been pulling a Helga. In more words, I had been focusing all my attention on her: trying to get her to pay attention to me and ultimately date/kiss/fuck/recognise me. So I started to take some time to myself since once school started I'd pulled in all different directions: the band, school, work, family, and so on and so forth.

And by time to myself I really mean sitting in my room, smoking, listening to music, and thinking about things. I seriously considered going to college and being a philosophy major, I thought so much. And that's the problem, I seriously considered going to college! Because I thought so much!

"I have? I didn't mean to, I just wanted to have some time to myself before school started," I said.

Which I did, but I spent most of that time to myself thinking about Helga and Arnold. And how much Helga said she loved Arnold. Yeah, sure that kid was a two hour bus ride away and Helga had chosen to be with me now, but I couldn't get over the fact that Helga was still head over heels for him. It's not like I expected her to fall at my feet and declare her undying love for me, but really, I just kinda expected her not to have feelings _that strong_ for anyone else.

It was my own fault really, since I was the one who pushed her into a relationship with me, but still. I was moping over it all anyway, Goddammit.

"Well, why didn't you say so? I thought you were sulking about Arnold," Helga rolled back over to face me.

I must have had a real nervous look on my face or I don't know what, because she narrowed her eyes at me and glared.

"I can't believe you're sulking about that. Look, I told you because I thought you'd be cool with it! You said we weren't even in a fuckin' relationship!"

"I know what I said, Christ," I sat up and grabbed my pack of smokes, all ready to go outside and let the nicotine rid me of my feelings. "I don't even know why I care. Maybe because I'm head over heels for you and I know that all this is going to end. How did you deal with it?"

Helga just got up with me and followed me to her stoop, where I lit up a cigarette and sucked in the smoke angrily. She watched the smoke streaming off the lit tip for a few minutes before quietly answering my question with another question.

"Deal with what?"

"Loving someone so much and knowing it's going to be over."

Helga put her hand on my knee and looked at me for a moment.

"You just have to," her voice was softer than I had ever heard it before. "But what, you think that we're not going to last? If you think that, then why don't you just end it before either of us get hurt?" She flared up immediately afterwards. Some things were too good to last.

"I want to enjoy what I have and let it run its course," I said, focusing on my shaking hands instead of her blazing eyes. "I just think there are too many things working against what we have to make this last forever. I mean, what does either of us know about having a good relationship? Our parents' marriages are both fucked to hell."

"Why don't you just end it before either of us get hurt?" Helga repeated, her grip on my knee growing tighter.

"I thought you would know," this time it was my turn to be all soft-voiced and sissy sounding. But here I was, spilling my guts to Helga Pataki who had the power to absolutely destroy me with a few simple words. Not like I would try to let her destroy me, but she could. "I love you. It's too late for me to end this and not be hurt by it. It's my own damn fault. I could go on and on about how I feel like this is the real deal and gosh darn, you're the one for me, but that's all bull shit. All this stuff about love, and that you have one true love and true love lasts and whatever, I don't buy it. One day, in twenty years, I'll look back on this moment and be like, how could I feel like that? but it's how I feel right now."

"You have a lot of high minded ideas for someone barely considered an adult," Helga tried to shrug off what I had said.

"I'm young and stupid. I've got to make mistakes like this."

"So you think we're a mistake?"

"Yeah. A fantastic, wonderful, amazing mistake that I wouldn't trade for anything else."

–

I was lying on my bed reading a book when my phone went off. Helga had texted me, something about celebrating the last day of summer at her house. She specifically used the words, "And don't bring your assclown friends." So I dog-eared my book (I was attempting to read Dave Eggers since Helga liked him but that wasn't going down so well), hid my stash, and put out the incense I was burning.

Dad was home, and he was sitting downstairs reading the paper and smoking. He looked up when I thundered down the stairs and yelled at me like he always did, saying it sounded like I was falling down them.

"Where are you headed off to?" he asked.

"Helga's. I'll probably be back late," I said, grabbing my wallet from the kitchen counter.

"Don't be out too late, you've got school tomorrow, and who wants to be late on their first day?"

"Me," I muttered. "I'll turn up my alarm real loud if I'm out later than midnight."

"All right, son, don't do anything stupid," Dad said, turning back to his paper.

I rolled my eyes and walked out the door, catching the bus line to Helga's house since my metrocard had expired and I didn't feel like getting around to fixing that and it's a big hassle to pay two fifty every time you want to take a damn train. At least I still had my bus pass.

After having a cigarette on Helga's stoop, I stood up and knocked on her door. She answered after a few moments. I gave her a quick kiss and she lead me inside. I heard people laughing upstairs and the tv going, so I assumed she had other friends over.

"Gerald and Phoebe are over," she said while I took off my boots. "We have a bad movie marathon."

I laughed, "How bad?"

"Cheesy B-Movie bad."

"My favourite," I grinned, even though I was not looking forward to seeing Gerald again, considering the great impression I had made on him the last time.

We went upstairs to Helga's room. This was the first time I had seen her room and I was kinda curious as to how it looked. Helga pushed open the door and I got a good look. It was almost exactly like mine in the sense that it had originally been designed for someone much younger but had not been repainted in years. Her wallpaper was childish, but her bedspread was a plain pink.

Both Phoebe and Gerald looked up when we came in. Phoebe was stretched out on the bed while Gerald sat in a beanbag chair. There was a tv on a dresser that was showing some old black and white movie. Gerald shot me a dirty look that I realised I fully deserved, but the look from Phoebe, I didn't deserve that. I hardly said five words to her.

"Hi," I said in a rather sheepish tone.

Gerald raised his eyebrows at me. I took a deep breath and sat down on the floor at the foot of Helga's bed. Helga laid back on her bed. Lame. Everyone else got to be all nice and comfy, and all I got was the floor. That was all right. Who likes feeling their ass anyways? I sure don't.

"What are we watching?"

"Plan Nine from Outer Space," Helga answered. "It's God awful. Up next is Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."

"Yikes, I don't know if I could sit through that movie again," I cringed. I had watched it once when Dad rented it in a fit of nostalgia and for a second, I wasn't quite sure what I was watching. If only I had brought a little green with me. The movies would be so much better.

"Don't spoil it for the rest of us," Phoebe said and I could tell she was trying to be polite.

"Trust me, there's nothing to spoil. Do you mind if I go get a drink?" I asked Helga, ready to hightail it out of that room.

"Yeah, I'll show you to the kitchen," Helga said.

I thought about telling her that I knew where the kitchen was, but then I thought better of it. Maybe she forgot I knew. Maybe she didn't want Phoebe or Gerald to know that I had been in her house. Maybe she didn't want them to assume anything. Or maybe she just plain forgot. What did I know about what went on in her head?

Once we were in the kitchen, Helga said, "We don't have anything alcoholic. Miriam's attempting to be sober again."

"I hadn't even thought of that... look, I didn't know Gerald and Phoebe were going to be here."

"What, you think I invited you here so we could start school with a consummated relationship?" Helga smirked.

"I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind, but Gerald doesn't like me," I told Helga while getting a yahoo out of the fridge.

"He doesn't like me either, and I don't let that stop Phoebe from bringing him around. What do you want me to do about it?"

That was news to me. From the sounds of it, he liked Helga a little. Enough to look out for her, at least.

"Really? Because that night we went to the club... for my birthday," I started.

"Don't remind me," Helga turned her back on me.

"I was outside, you know, beside myself because I had screwed everything up, and Gerald comes out and tells me that you're hysterical and I'm like fuck off man, I know I screwed up and he's all like whatever and I probably yelled some stupid shit 'cuz I'm an idiot. So I think he hates me."

"You're paranoid," Helga seemed to shrug the whole thing off, which surprised me a little because I thought that she'd at least get all worked up over it.

"I had no idea. Well, I'm going to go have another cigarette outside. I'll come up when I'm done," I said, feeling a little ripped off.

Not that I wasn't happy that she didn't explode on me. I was happy I hadn't gotten yelled at. But still, I felt ripped off. Helga gave me a weird sort of look, one that I couldn't really figure out, before she left the kitchen and headed up to her room. I popped open my Yahoo and chugged half of it down before fishing my smokes out of my pocket and meandering outside.

I was halfway through my third one when the door opened. I turned around, expecting it to be Helga telling me to stop being lame. Instead, I saw Gerald. He had the same sort of look on his face that Helga had.

Gerald sat down next to me on the stoop. I didn't say anything. He sort of sighed and for a second I felt like a kid who had done something bad and was getting punished by his father. But here I was, a legal adult feeling like a child. Jesus.

"Sid," Gerald started before going, "man, put that thing out, I'm dyin' over here."

I reluctantly shorted my cig, then looked at him, expecting him to continue on his little soap box.

"Okay, let's get things straight. I don't like Helga. I care for her in the sorta way you care for a... like a pet fish or something. You just don't have the best track record with the ladies, and just like if you killed my pet, I don't like you doin' dumb things to Helga," he said.

"Gee, thanks for the nice chat, daddy," I said, not quite sure what to make of what Gerald said to me. "All I want to say about that night is alcohol doesn't do wonders for my personality. I'm really quite charming when you get to know me."

"You're hopeless. You gonna be a bastard forever," Gerald shook his head and got up.

I waited for him to back inside before lighting up my cigarette again. What did he mean, "not the best track record with the ladies"? I swear, the last time I saw the kid I was in elementary. And I wasn't dating anybody in elementary. I didn't think my reputation was that bad. I mean, sure, middle school I was a little fuck and enjoyed dicking around with girls' hearts, but everyone's a little monster in middle school.

And I doubt he had heard about my high school escapades. I worked hard to make sure no one involved spoke of those years again. Okay, that makes it sound worse than it really was, but still. I wasn't even considering being an asshole on purpose to Helga. It's not like she wouldn't hand my ass right back to me anyway.

Finally, I sucked it up and trudged back upstairs.

"You were gone a long time," Helga raised her eyebrows at me.

"Nicotine addiction called," I said. "You know how it goes, that cig is so good, you just have to have another one."

I ignored the looks Gerald was giving to me and sat my ass back down on the floor. I would be the good little boyfriend for Helga and not be a whiney bitch. I could deal with being around someone with mutual feelings of dislike. I could deal.

Several hours and several bad movies later, Phoebe and Gerald had called it a night and left. I won't lie, I was relieved when they left. I had been ignoring the both of them for the whole time. So maybe it wasn't the best way to deal, but it was a way. I don't claim to be perfect or anything.

"I'll probably head home too," I said, dragging my ass up off the floor.

"Fine. Nice way to blow it," Helga said in a nonchalant tone of voice.

"I don't think I blew it. I was civil to him, I didn't shout, what do you want? If I was destined to be friends with that kid, it would have happened by now."

"Whatever,"

"Are you going to pout because I'm not buddy-buddy with him?" I sat next to Helga on the bed. "He thinks of you like a pet fish. It's kinda weird."

"Shove off," Helga pushed me off the bed and sat up.

"Ow!" I said, dragging myself up off the floor. "If you weren't a chick, I would punch you for that."

"That's the lamest excuse ever. Go ahead. I'd like to see you try," Helga said.

"I'm not gonna be the kinda guy who hits girls," I muttered.

"What a crock of shit. Everyone knows you slapped that bitch you dated freshman year."

"Shut up," I said, getting to my feet.

I did not even want to think about that. Helga knew shit about that. And here she was bringing up and trying to get a rise out of me. I suppose it was only fair since I did the same to her all the live long day, but Helga deserved it. Or maybe I should say needed it. She needed it. She couldn't live life being the mega-bitch that she loved to be.

"Aw, did I hurt your feelings?" Helga got up off the bed and put her hands on my shoulders. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

I took a deep breath and tried to count to ten. "You pissed me the fuck off! You know shit about me, and shit about what made me do that!"

"Don't get your panties all in a twist," Helga trailed her hands down my front, then stepped around to face me.

"I'm leaving, Helga, I'll see you later," I said, looking at the floor.

"You are such a little bitch!" Helga scowled at me, her eyes all icy and snapping again. "So it's okay for you to hand shit to me and I can't hand shit right back? What a fucking hypocrite."

"Well you deserve all the shit I give to you," I spat before I could stop myself.

"Oh, I deserve it now? God, I miss it when you would just run away because I looked at you!"

"Because you can be a lousy bitch! Fucking shit, I know I'm a slimy asshole, a sleaze, whatever you want to call me, but that's different than being a grade-A lousy bitch! How can you go on being that? I know you're not like that because I almost saw this other side of you, where you were sweet and caring and just... a one eighty! How can you go on without letting anyone at all see that side of you? Knowing who you are completely? You'll end up a bitter old bitch one day because anything good inside you will have gone, you'll end up with no one!" I snapped.

I expected Helga to slap me. I expected her to push me around again. I expected her to do anything but what she did. My heart jumped up into my throat when her face crumpled and a choked-back sob burst out of her. I reached a hand out to her, but she turned away from me and I could tell that she was attempting to compose herself.

"The only person who knew me completely left!" Helga screamed, her voice betraying the fact that she was still on the verge of tears. "I gave him my fucking heart and soul and he didn't even recognise that!"

There wasn't even anything I could say. She was wounded so deep. Her love for Arnold was deeper than I had ever thought. She wasn't lying when she said that her whole existence was moulded around him. I was nothing to her, and I would be nothing to her, because everything about her was Arnold. He had been with her every step of the way and something like that is hard to ever give up.

"Say something!" Helga whirled around to face me, and for the first time in a long while, I was scared of her.

She was wild looking, with tears streaming down her face and a hysterical, dangerous sort of look in her eyes. I knew that this time, for real, I had crossed another line, a line that I hadn't even known was there.

I couldn't say anything.

"Say something!" Helga repeated, her voice still high-pitched and wavering. "You wanted to hurt me so bad, well, GOOD FUCKING JOB! Get the fuck out so I can go and turn into a bitter, old bitch! Get OUT!"

Helga slapped me. I wasn't sure what to do. She had slapped me hard. My cheek was smarting something fierce, so I just stood there, stunned. That wasn't good enough for Helga. She made a fierce frustrated noise and shoved me towards the door. Tears were still shining in her eyes.

"I said get out!" she shrieked.

She pushed me back up again and my back hit the wall. Helga realised that she couldn't shove me around any further upon which she looked at a loss for what to do. She looked devastated. I had really crossed the line, never before had I seen her look this way. So I did the only thing I thought I could do: I hugged her tight.

"You don't tell anyone anything. It would hurt me so much for no one else to ever know what you're really like," I whispered.

Helga's red-rimmed eyes locked with mine and I held her gaze. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. She looked away and put her face to my neck, but she didn't sob any more. We both slid to the floor and I refused to let her go.

We stayed like that for a while. I thought hard while I rubbed her back. I could really hurt Helga. I had the same power over her that she had over me: if we wanted to, either of us could do serious harm. But Helga had already given that sort of power to Arnold. And Arnold had destroyed her by leaving her. Maybe he didn't know, but he had given Helga everything that she had ever wanted, then snatched it away, leaving her with nothing.

She could do that to me. She could do that to me.

The thought paralysed me. What if Helga destroyed me? What kind of person would I turn into? What would I even do? But I was getting myself all worked up over what-ifs. The least I could do was enjoy each golden moment I had with Helga.

Helga was all warm in my arms and her weight against me just felt _nice_. Normally girls would lay on me and just cut off circulation to my arms and I'd be like fuck, get off of me, you whale, but Helga felt nice. I could feel her heart beat and it was kind of like I had stripped away everything bitchy about her and it was just Helga. That sounds sort of strange like that, but it was how I felt.

Finally, she raised her head and looked at me with her red eyes.

"I hate you and yet..." she trailed off.

I waited for her to say something else, but she never did, so I leaned in and kissed her. I could taste the salty tears on her lips. Helga still had her arms around me. I loved kissing Helga. She was the only girl who made me feel like I could just kiss her forever and that would be okay. But it was all bittersweet, and the salt on her lips made me remember that this wasn't forever, so I should savour every second of it.

"And yet what?" I asked when she broke off the kiss.

"And yet, I don't," she said softly.

"How... nice," I twitched the corners of my lip into a half-smile, then put my hand to her face so I could gently bring her face near mine again.

I gave her one last kiss, then I pulled away again. It was late, and I did have to show up for school tomorrow. Plus, I think I had already taken as much of Helga as I could take that day. I felt all wobbly and sort of weak after our shouting match.

"Are you going home?" Helga asked.

"Yeah. I'm sorry that I said all that stuff to you," I said in the most apologetic voice I could muster, because I truly was sorry.

Helga just shrugged as she walked me to the door. I felt worse than I had ever felt before, because I knew I had hurt her. I had crossed a line and things wouldn't be the same ever again.

–

The first day of school was all right. I didn't get to see Helga at all and the only class I had with Allen was gym. I had one free period, but every other senior had like two and were taking at least one dual-credit classes. I wasn't. Not that I was all like, crying, about that. I just felt like my future didn't include forking about twenty thousand a year for classes I would blow off for partying.

They had finally wised up to the fire escape, which was sad. When I tried to go out there for a smoke, the door was shut, so I opened it and ended up setting off the fire alarm. Luckily the alarm stopped when I shut the door again so I strolled out of that hallway looking cool as a cucumber and thank God I didn't get caught.

Theatre seemed like it would be all right, the teacher had heard me perform at prom so she said this year she would take me seriously. I almost didn't know what to say to her right then. She hadn't taken me seriously before? But what the hell, maybe this year I would get a shot at a nice big part. It would probably be some silly, cliché play though. I would take what I could get though.

I thought that Mrs Yves would have a heart attack when she saw me walk in the biology classroom for the third time (I had it at a real fun time this year, first thing in the morning), but instead she asked to talk to me after class.

"Sid, you know that neither of us wants to be here," she said. Her lips were still that same stupid fire-engine red colour. "So I've talked with the faculty here and if you choose to do so, your grade for the class will be pass fail."

"If I choose to do what?" I wasn't quite sure what she was asking and to be frank, I was a little nervous because I knew she hated me.

"Choose to be my teaching assistant for this class period. You would teach certain lessons and help out on dissection days and things like that," Mrs Yves said. "It's more of an independent study for a biology credit."

"Wow. You'd trust me to do that?" I was surprised, to say the least.

"You'd have to prepare the lessons yourself and get approval from me beforehand," she said.

"Would I still have to show up on days I'm not needed?"

"No," Mrs Yves said.

"Then hot damn, you got yourself a deal," I said, thrilled that I wouldn't have to sit through the standard biology class again.

"Then meet me after school today and we can discuss it further."

I nodded then left the room vowing up and down that this year, I would pass biology. But that wasn't the best part of the day, or the part that made the whole day all right. That came when I was sitting out front with Allen, having a cigarette after school. I had asked him to wait for me since I had to talk with Mrs Yves.

"So, did you read the school paper today?" he asked.

I gave him a weird sort of look.

"Who reads the school paper?" I snorted in disbelief.

"A lot of people do," Allen said in a small voice. He pulled a copy out of his backpack and handed it to me. "But whatever, read that section, you know, five things to do this weekend, the one they put there so kids think they have options to do besides sitting in their bedroom and hitting a bong?"

"Okay, jeez," I said, unfolding the paper to the aforementioned section.

**Five Things to Do This Weekend**

by Helga Pataki

Okay, so after reading that, I became a little more interested and pretty sure Allen wasn't just trying to secretly ask me on a date to some weird improv theatre. And then there was Slow Turning Tide, listed at number two, holy shit. So I read what she had wrote.

_2. See Slow Turning Tide_

_10:00pm at Du Cirrus with Red Death, Absolute Obfuscation, and Ediefice | All Ages | $15_

_You may have heard them before, but not like this. Seniors Sid Gifaldi and Allen LaGuardia take elements of classic rock and blend them seamlessly with grunge and blues, creating a sound that's hard to forget. Slow Turning Tide made a splash on the Hillwood music scene when, for their first live show, they opened for local heavy metal darling, Gilgamesh. Since then they have been playing at venues all over the city and are quickly gaining a large following. Come out and support a great local band!_

I looked at it for about five seconds, then looked up at Allen.

"Wow, that's surprisingly nice of her to do that," I said. "But I feel like this is just going to attract geeks and nerds."

"Hey, a lot of people read the school paper!" Allen said defensively.

"Okay, okay, I believe you, man, Christ," I laughed, punching his arm. "Let's head home, we've got to be at Cirrus at seven."

It was surprising though, I thought that the show would be like other shows, with a crowd of about thirty people but the turnout this time was great. I guess Allen was right, a lot of people did read the school paper, because there had to be at least a hundred people there. A lot of them came outside and would smoke with us when we weren't setting up our equipment, eating, drinking, or doing the sound check.

Some of our stoner friends were there, saying that they had had no idea that we played in a band that was actually good, but most of the people there were guys we had seen around school and had never spoken a word to, so it was cool that word was spreading about us.

When we were about to go on, I got a glimpse of Helga in the crowd. I was substantially less nervous about seeing her around our shows now, even though that song I had written about her was in our setlist tonight. It felt like now, she at least had a better understanding of how I felt about her and it wasn't crazy awkward. We were in a pseudo-relationship. It was all okay.

It was a little weird, but having Helga there almost made it easier to perform. I was more energetic that usual; Stinky and Allen saw the show I was putting on and matched my energy level, which the crowd loved. We even got a few pits started during a few of our heavier songs.

And then when I sang that song about Helga, it was crazy. She had made her way to the front of the crowd, so I was able to make eye contact with her the whole time during the song. That was intense. Every time I sang that song, I always felt this crazy sexual energy, since the song was pretty much about how badly I wanted her, but looking into those ice blue eyes the whole time, wow, it blew my mind. My skin kept tingling. I hoped Helga was feeling how I was feeling, and I will always maintain the idea that she was.

A few songs after that, we ended the set. There was one more band after us, so the four of us had to wait around and wait for Ediefice, some lame-ass hardcore band, to finish their boring set. Every one of their damn songs sounded the same, so it could have been boring as shit, if not for the fact that I talked to Helga most of the time they were playing.

We went outside so I could have my cigarette fix. During the time in which we had set up to the time we finished our set, it had decided that it needed to start pouring down rain. I suppose it was a good thing, since we hadn't seen rain since the beginning of August and the rain had managed to significantly cool down the air.

Helga and I stood under the awning of Du Cirrus, watching the rain pour down as I smoked my cigarette. There were a few other smokers out there, but it was pretty empty since most people came to Du Cirrus for it's music and not for its drinks.

"You've got to stop singing that song," Helga said after a few minutes of silence between the two of us.

"Why?" I asked with a roguish grin, feeling kind of playful still after dorking around on stage.

"Because it's just awkward. I'm probably not even going to have sex with you."

"Probably? So there's a maybe in there?"

"Keep it in your pants, you horndog. I know you think rather liberally of sex, but I don't."

"Well, how _do_ you think of sex?" I asked, dropping my cigarette butt on the ground and hearing it hiss when it hit the wet pavement.

"Like I'm going to discuss that with you," Helga crossed her arms.

I watched her shake her head disdainfully to get her hair our of her face and all I could think about was grabbing that hair and pulling her head back so I could kiss her perfect neck. Maybe I was a horndog. But I was a horndog for her.

"I think you should. It could prevent a lot of awkward situations. I mean, how do I know how far is too far unless you tell me?" I said.

Helga seemed to consider this a fair point, because her brow furrowed up in a way that I thought was pretty adorable and she bit her bottom lip (if only it was me biting her bottom lip). She sighed, then crossed and uncrossed her arms until everyone else had gone back inside.

"As much as it _pains_ me to admit, you're right. But," Helga flushed red and didn't finish.

"I'll go first," I grinned again, lighting up a second cigarette. "No anal sex. I don't care if it's a kinky fetish of yours, I'm not putting my dick in there. It's too good for that."

To my surprise, Helga snorted. It sounded kind of derisive, but I didn't really care. I had kinda gotten her to laugh. It was a start, and always more welcome than a glare.

"I doubt you'll ever get that far," Helga was smirking.

"Good, then I don't have to worry," I said.

"I suppose," Helga's voice made it sound like she was making a gigantic effort, and in a way, I suppose she really was, "we can just say... if I tell you to stop... you stop, or otherwise I'll kick your balls so hard they'll be inside you."

"Ouch. It's okay guys, I won't make you suffer like that," I patted my crotch like I was comforting my nads. "I'll stop when you tell me to stop."

"Now that that's cleared up, I am not going to stay around and watch you guys pack up amps for an hour. See ya," Helga put up her hood, gave me a salute, and walked off into the night.

–

"Christ, Sid, that v-neck's so deep I can see your mangina."

Helga and I were hanging out in my room; I had asked her to go over my first presentation for biology to make sure it wasn't dumb as fuck. She assured me it wasn't and asked me if I knew the shit, why in hell didn't I just pass biology the first time. I told her the truth, I was too lazy to try. It was the bane of my existence, my laziness.

"Do you like what you see?" I pulled the collar of my shirt back to expose more of my chest, but winced a little.

"And when did you get that tattoo?" Helga frowned, squinting at what she could see of the fresh ink.

"A few days ago, over the weekend," I said. I had wanted a tattoo for a long while, I just never knew what exactly to get until a few weeks ago. Then it was only a matter of saving up the cash to get it done.

"What is it?" Helga sounded curious.

I pulled off my shirt to show her better. I felt a little silly, since they had shaved most of my chest due to it being a rather large and extensive tattoo. So far, it was only in the black and white stages, I would have to go back later to get the colours added in, but you could tell what it was.

I had gotten a phoenix, with its wings spread across my chest. It was done up in a sort of heraldic style. I was debating whether I wanted anything in its claws, but so far I hadn't come up with anything particularly meaningful to have it hold. I also wanted there to be a few words above it, right under my collarbone, but again, I couldn't think of anything that I really wanted tattooed on my skin forever and ever until I was old and saggy.

"It's a phoenix, a firebird," I told her.

The artist was one of the best ones in Hillwood, so the tattoo looked pretty badass, if I do say so myself. It would look fucking awesome when it was finished. But right now it was still all shiny because I had to keep ointment over it while it healed.

"Any particular reason you chose to get a mythical bird permanently placed on your chest?" Helga raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, there are a few," I shrugged.

I just didn't want to tell her that the main reason I had gotten it, because she _was_ the main reason I had gotten it. I figured that in the long run, a phoenix was a much better choice than her name on my biceps. With a phoenix, I could just be all, oh, it represents the circle of life, death and rebirth, and all that mystic occult junk. And plus, I really didn't want to forget how Helga made me feel, and the phoenix made me think of her. Y'know, fiercely loyal and all that shit.

Helga eventually go the idea that I wasn't going to tell her the reason why I got the tattoo, so instead she silently handed all the papers that she had been checking back to me and pronounced them passable.

"Thanks," I said, putting them back in their folder.

She made no move to tell me to put my shirt back on, which I considered a win for me. I mean, I wasn't any eyesore in the muscle department, thanks to all the heavy lifting I did for work and the band.

"Well, if that's all you needed me to do, then I'm going to leave," Helga said.

"Without a goodbye kiss?" I asked.

Helga rolled her eyes but leaned in and pecked my cheek. I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down on top of me, capturing her lips in a kiss not quite as chaste as the one she had given me. Helga gave a little sound of what could have been protest, surprise, or enjoyment. I was rooting for enjoyment. Then, despite how much I wanted to continue, I let her go.

"Bye," I grinned.

"You are such a little shit," Helga muttered, but her cheeks were tinged pink, so I had the feeling that she really didn't mind as much as she made out to.

–

"Have any plans with your little girlfriend tonight?" Dad asked.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. He was in the kitchen, trying to fix his tie using his reflection in the microwave as a mirror. Well, good thing I did have plans with her tonight, because I certainly didn't know Dad was going on a date. Not that I was surprised or anything, I was glad that I wouldn't have to be here when he brought back home his usual Friday screamer. I think he liked the chick, because she had been brought home for the past few weeks every Friday. But he didn't like her that much, because he never brought her home on Saturdays.

"Eh, maybe. We might go and see this show," I lied.

We weren't going to a show at all. This weekend, Harold's parents were out of town and he was determined to throw a party that would go down in the annals of Hillwood history. I told him it would be pretty hard to top that one party that happened back in the 90's, where people threw appliances out the window and stuck a cat in the microwave. He had retorted angrily that he wanted to throw a good one where people didn't get arrested for vandalism and animal cruelty.

"That sounds nice. I'll be back late, so if you're going to not come back tonight, let me know," Dad said, figuring that his tie was good enough. It was crooked.

"'Kay. Bye, Dad," I said, turning back to the tv.

Once Dad was gone, I went up to my room to get ready. This really just consisted of me smoking a bowl then deciding what to wear. Since the nights were starting to get cooler, I decided on a ripped up wife beater, a DIY jacket, shredded jeans, and those jump boots that only looked better and better each time I wore them.

Harold had been bugging me for the last twenty minutes to get my ass over to his house to help him set up, so I slowly made my way over there. The party didn't start until ten, and it was only nine by the time I got there.

"What the fuck took you so long?" Harold grumped when he opened the door.

"Had to wait for my dad to leave, so I could smoke," I said.

"But your dad smokes too," Harold said. "I'm confused. You're confusing me!"

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean he likes me smoking, dumbass! Now what do you need me to do that you couldn't do yourself?"

"You make better jungle juice than me," Harold said.

"Why thank you, good sir," I grinned.

"So get to it, you cocky little shit!" Harold said. "I'm going to set up the beer-pong."

I went into the kitchen where there was already a couple coolers and a good dozen bottles of alcohol sitting on the counter. The first thing I did was cut up some fruit and get it soaking in everclear, since that was the pretty much the best part of a good jungle juice. Then I split up the bottles evenly between the two coolers and got to masking the alcohol taste with fruit juice and a lot of crystal light. This was going to get people fucked up.

Harold came back in to check on my progress and gave a grunt that I assumed meant he was pleased. He lugged one of the coolers out of the kitchen and hid it. I poured myself a cup to taste test it and knew that I had done good. You couldn't even taste the alcohol, but you knew it would hit you like a fucking train before you even had any idea what happened.

Shortly after that, Stinky and Allen and some of their friends came over, and we took a few shots to get us going. Then I left to go and fetch Helga as well as to get a few packs and a couple energy drinks at the gas station.

Helga answered the door a few minutes after I rang the doorbell, all ready to go. I had to fight to keep the blood flowing to my brain when I saw her, because she looked hot as hell. Black shorts, ripped up tights, doc martens, and a band t-shirt cut into a tank top.

She seemed to sense exactly what I was thinking, because she said, "Keep it in your pants, Gifaldi."

"Jeez, it's really, really hard, but for you, I'll try," I said, offering my arm to her.

Helga ignored my arm and instead just shut and locked her front door. I put my arm back at my side and we set off for Harold's house once again. The jungle juice and shots had already gotten to me halfway there, but then I drank one of my energy drinks and when we walked up the steps of Harold's, I was feeling pretty buttery.

Already, there were scores of people there. Harold at least had the better sense than to play the sort of music he liked and instead was blasting Skrillex, music you could at least dance to. We both went to find Harold to get cups again. This was one of the perks of being friends with people who threw parties, you drank for free all the time while everyone else had to pay five bucks.

Somewhere along the line, the jungle juice ran out but a keg and several flasks was produced and all was well. I tried not to loose sight of Helga, but it happened an hour or so into the party. So I stood in the crowd with a flask of Hypnotic that I had stolen from said produced flasks. Several chicks came up to talk to me in the process, but like the gentleman I was, I turned them away to search for Helga.

Finally I couldn't stand it any longer. I went outside to have a cigarette. My energy drinks had long since been consumed, and I definitely drank more than the caffeine could cover for, so the world was spinning when I sat down on the steps to light my cig. The cigarette allowed me to focus a little, so I drank more out of my flask. It was a big flask.

After several cigarettes and several more gulps of alcohol, I knew I had overdone it. I had overdone it big time. Somehow, I made my way back inside the house. The sight of all the people I didn't know, all those girls in their party slut clothes and the guys talking to them in hopes of getting laid just made me feel sick. I got to the stairs leading the to second floor and tripped halfway up them, so I resorted to crawling up the rest. I was that drunk.

I opened up a door and quickly got yelled at. I hadn't realised that it was the bathroom and there was some chick in there taking a piss. I yelled, "Sorry!" through the door and tried the next one, which was the guest bedroom and thankfully empty. I flopped down on the bed and finally let myself become the sad drunk.

Helga eventually found me in the unused bedroom. She didn't say anything to me, which I was grateful for because I was not in the mood to have anything thoughtless said to me. First of all, I was embarrassed that I had been crying because I had been working so hard to stop bawling over every little thing. Second of all, it was a party, and getting sad when you're drunk is something you do when you drink alone or with a good friend, not when you go out planning to rage. Party foul to the extreme.

She sat down next to me on the bed and I wiped my eyes, even though tears still continued to well up. I sighed and wiped my eyes again, not quite sure what to say. What had made me cry seemed to be a combination of everything: I was bored, I was young, I was stupid, and I had money.

The party culture got me down. It got me down hard.

"Hey, you should go back out there and have fun," I said to Helga, cringing at how shakey my voice sounded.

"I don't do fun at parties. Go out there and talk to every douchebag with his collar popped and his hat turned backward? No thanks," Helga swirled the contents of her drink around, then downed it. "This beer tastes like piss."

I let out a laugh that sounded more like a snort and said, "I've got a flask of Hypnotic on me."

"Sure, hand it over," Helga held out her hand.

I took the flask out of my jacket's pocket. Helga opened it up and looked like she was about to take a sip, but then she got up and walked into the bathroom. When I heard the sound of liquid being poured out, I just flopped back on the bed and ran my hands through my hair. I was too fucked up for this shit.

Helga came back and dropped the flask on my stomach. I felt her weight on the bed, but I didn't bother moving.

"So why are you cowering in a bedroom?"

"I'm too fucked up," I murmured, rolling onto my side so my back was to her.

"No duh," Helga sounded annoyed.

"Look, I'm really not in the mood right now," I felt tears coming to my eyes again. "I... know I'll be fine again when I wake up, and then I know I'm going to do it all over again. There's no point. There's no point to any of this but I'm still going to go do it even though it's all meaningless. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of people acting like it's the greatest thing ever, to get fucked up like this. It's fucking stupid but I do it because I'm so bored with my life and who I am."

"You're babbling," Helga said.

"It's still all true. I still feel this way," I muttered. I attempted to sit up but the room spun so much that I laid right back down. "If you're going to be like you are right now, just leave me alone."

"Or what?" Helga sounded like she was ready to start something.

"Or I don't EVEN FUCKING KNOW!" I shouted. "Everything sucks, everything's lame, I hate it all, and you're not making it better! So just go away. I'm going to go throw up."

I rolled off the bed and crawled to the bathroom, embracing the porcelain throne. Helga walked over to the door way and stood, looking down at me. I couldn't look at her, figuratively and literally. Figuratively, I felt so ashamed to have her see me like this, literally, I was puking too hard to move an inch away from the toilet.

God, I was too drunk to deal with anything. The room was spinning, the walls were swimming up and down at the same time and I could hardly think straight. I could only concentrate on how miserable I felt.

The next thing I knew, Helga's face was next to mine with a glass of water. I slumped back against the bathtub and washed my mouth out with the water. I knew I still needed to throw up, but I didn't have anything to throw up. How did I managed to get myself so fucked up?

"Why haven't you left?" I slurred at Helga.

I was still slumped up against the toilet, hugging the bowl. Helga looked pained and grabbed a washcloth from the sink, giving it to me so I could wipe my mouth. She sat down on the rug and gave me one of those haunting stares.

"You're drunk."

"Yeah. Real drunk. 'M pretty sloppy. So?"

"So..." Helga hugged her knees. "You're forgetting who my mother is. You'll regret half of what you said when you're sober. But listen up," her eyes snapped again, "if you keep doing this shit, then fucking forget about it all. The last thing I need is another person I care for being an alcoholic."

Another person that she cares for... I couldn't even collect my thoughts for a second to say anything. And I shouldn't have said anything at all. I should have kept my fucking mouth shut.

"But you drink too," I finally mumbled.

"Because I don't drink like you do," Helga snapped. "I drink because I know how much I can handle, and it's a social thing. _You_ drink because... you don't know how to deal! You're so uncomfortable in your own damn skin that you can't stand who you are, and you feel the need to forget your stupid teen memories that aren't even worth erasing! What's so Goddamn painful about your life that you need to drink to dull the pain?"

"It's not like that at all... I'm perfectly happy with who I am!" I tried to stand up but fell down. "I just don't know what the hell I'm going to do for the rest of my life. It all feels like it's going to be so... stupid that being like this gives me, it makes me feel like I at least have something to do, something special to be, that I'm not a total fucking loser for at least a few hours. I just want to escape."

"You're drunk. You won't remember any of this in the morning, but unless you want to give me perfect material to taunt you with, I suggest you shut up," Helga helped me up. "C'mon, you're going home."

"Okay," I tried to support my own weight but I couldn't, so I half-heartedly accepted Helga's help.

We left the party quickly. During the time I was upstairs, it had really cleared out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people huddled around someone on the couch, but I didn't think anything of it. Helga and I were slowly walking in the direction of my house. It was pretty far away from Harold's, so I would sober up at least during the walk home.

"I wanted to leave anyways," Helga said while we walked.

"Why?" I was struggling to light another cigarette one handed.

"Some kid did synthetic molly and had a seizure," Helga said.

"He didn' top puttin' a cat in the microwave," I slurred.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Helga asked.

I started to explain how Harold wanted to top that crazy party from years ago, but she didn't quite understand what I meant, probably because I wasn't even forming words at that point. Along the way, I had to stop and dry-heave at an overpass. I don't really know how I was still conscious, actually.

"Where are your keys?" Helga asked.

I didn't even realise we were standing in front of my house. When did we get here? Maybe I really hadn't been conscious after all.

"Onna... pockets," I forced out, gesturing wildly with my arm. "Sumwere."

Helga checked my jacket pockets first and found the keys in an inside one. She found the house key easily, since the other key was a copy of the key to Dad's Grand Ville. When the door was unlocked, Helga quietly let us in, until I tripped over the threshold and brought both of us to the floor.

"You dumbass," Helga hissed.

"Sorry," I laughed, "sorry."

After some struggle, Helga got me to my feet. Lucky for us Dad wasn't home, otherwise he would have gotten so pissed at me. I kept asking for a glass of water the whole time Helga helped me up the stairs. She opened the door to my room and walked me to the bed. I flopped down on it, too afraid to close my eyes because everything was still spinning.

"I'll go and get you a glass of water if you shut the hell up," Helga snapped.

"'Kay," I chirped, already struggling out of my clothes.

When Helga returned, I was down to my boxers, already having dry heaved some more in the comfort of my own bathroom. After gulping down the water, I crawled into bed. Helga looked at me for a second. In the dark, it was hard to tell what exact expression she was wearing, but I can venture a guess that it was probably one of pity, anger, hatred, or disappointment.

"Stay?" I asked.

"What?"

"Will you stay?" I worked hard to form the words into a coherent sounding phrase. "With me?"

"No," Helga was already turning to leave.

"Please," I was still drunk enough that I was on the verge of crying, I wanted her to stay so bad. "Sommin bad happens... if you don't."

"You'll be fine. Go to sleep," Helga sounded extremely tired.

"Bad neighbourhood, don' go an' get hurt," I said. "Please."

Helga shifted her weight from foot to foot while she thought about what I had said. Then there was the sound of shoes being taken off and the foot of the bed dipped with her weight. I heard her shorts hitting the floor, then her warm body was next to mine. She pulled the covers over us. Finally, I allowed myself to pass out.

When I woke up the next morning, I heard the sound of my shower going. God, I was fucking hungover. Helga's shoes were on the floor, but her shorts weren't, so I assumed she was in the shower. I just laid there in bed, feeling miserable. I can't believe I let Helga see me like that. How fucking embarrassing.

About ten minutes later, Helga emerged from the shower, dressed in her tank top and shorts from last night. Her make-up was all gone and her hair was all wet and I swear she looked like a fucking angel. She gave me a weird look when she saw me, I feel like it was probably one of pity.

"Thanks," I said. My voice sounded like gravel. "Thanks for staying."

"'S nothing," Helga sat on the edge of the bed again.

I sat up, despite the protest my head put up, and hugged her tight. Helga stiffened a little at first, but then put her hands on my forearms.

"If you had walked around here alone at night, I would never forgive myself if I had let you do something like that and then you got mugged or worse," I said quietly.

"I stayed here with you though, didn't I?" Helga returned. "And don't you think I can take care of myself?"

"Not around here. Not against someone with a gun," my voice was still quiet and thoughtful.

Helga didn't respond. I squeezed her a little, then kissed her cheek, slowly getting to my feet.

"Please stay here for a little while longer," I said.

Helga nodded slightly, so I went to go take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and take care of my tattoo. I was pretty sure she didn't want to kiss someone who had spent the greater part of their night puking. After my shower, I felt loads better. Helga was sitting on my bed when I emerged from the bathroom. She put her phone down beside her then fixed her icy blue eyes on me. I sat down next to her and gave her a gentle kiss.

"I really can't thank you enough for taking care of me last night. You didn't have to do that," I said, taking her hand.

Helga shrugged and looked down at her feet. Her legs were bruised, probably from when we fell last night.

"It's nothing I haven't had to do for Miriam," she muttered.

The way she said it, sounding so dejected, made my heart break for her. How awful would that be, for your mother to be an alcoholic? I couldn't imagine ever having to do the same thing for Dad. I know that Dad's not perfect, but it just blew my mind, thinking about what things would be like if I had to take care of him like that.

So I pulled her against my chest and held her. Helga didn't reject me this time, she just accepted the embrace with a stoic face. After several minutes like that, we both knew that the moment had passed, so I let her go. Helga sniffed a little and brushed some of her wet hair behind her ear.

I reached out and tucked all of the hair hanging in her face behind her ear. I had wanted to do that for a long time. She looked up at me and seeing her stupid eyes, it was more than I could stand. I brought my lips to hers and kissed her passionately.

Helga kissed back, putting her hands on my shoulders. I placed my hand on her cheek to stroke it with my rough thumb, marvelling at the feeling of her skin. It was so soft, it reminded me of a peach. She drew her arms up around my neck, leaving the places her fingers had touched to tingle with the ghost of her touch.

As the kiss grew more heated, I got my chance to bite those tantalising lips of hers. Helga let out a little gasp and dug her nails into my back. Gathering my courage, I kissed away from her lips, gently pushing her chin up to expose her beautiful neck. She made the best sounds as I kissed her neck and pushed the straps of her bra and tank top off so I could kiss her shoulders. She had little freckles on her shoulders.

Helga drew her hands from my back down my chest. Her touch smarted as it grazed over my still healing tattoo, but I kind of enjoyed that. She trailed her fingers down to my boxers but quickly withdrew her hands when she accidentally touched my dick, which was inadvertently poking out of the fly. I gave a little shudder and drew back to look at her.

"Sorry," I said, even though all I wanted for her to do was put her hands back where they were.

"Just don't do anything stupid with it," Helga said, eyes flashing in warning.

She didn't have to tell me twice. I buried my face in her neck again, this time gathering the courage to slide my hands up her shirt. That was all I had the courage to do, though. I didn't dare unclasp her bra or grab her tits, which took a shitton of self control, let me tell you, because her tits were the best ones I had ever seen.

Helga surprised me by putting her hand on my wrist and guiding my hand up to her breast. At first I had thought she was trying to tell me to stop, but I soon caught on to what she was really doing. She tensed when I first brought my hand up, feeling her through her bra, but then she arched her back beautifully and mhmmed when I slid my hand under her bra and squeezed gently.

Jesus Christ I was going to fucking explode. How could she ask me to do this when there was like, zero chance, that I would ever get inside her?

I returned to kissing her, but Helga decided that my neck needed attention. I groaned feeling her lips, feeling the little nips and suckles she gave. With a bit of fumbling, I unclasped her bra so I could have freer access. I really was going to explode, if she kept making these noises and if she kept doing those things to my neck...

"I can't do it," I said, sitting up and biting my tongue. "You're fucking torturing me."

Helga opened her eyes and looked up at me. Good God.

"Well, I'm not having sex with you."

"Why not?" Jesus, my voice betrayed how badly I wanted it.

"I just don't want to have it," Helga crossed her arms and turned away from me.

I sat up and the bed and bemoaned the fact that I would be an old man with erectile dysfunction before I ever got laid again. Helga clasped her bra easily while I looked sadly down at my dick. Poor thing, got its hopes all up.

"Okay, sorry, I don't want to sound like I'm pressuring you into shit or anything, but your first time means jack shit. I know everyone makes it seem like oh, god, if you wait to have it with the right person, it'll be magical and wonderful and all that, but it's not. Your first time will suck. And it will suck after that for a while," I said while I put my shirt back on. "Because sex is inherently awkward. You'll get a good rhythm going and then your dick will just pop out and ruin it. You'll go to put on a condom and then suddenly you can't keep it up, stuff that feels amazing for you won't feel good at all for the other person, it's just something you need to practice. Learn the rhythms of the other person and all that junk."

"You make it sound like no big deal," Helga was all dressed again.

"It's not a big deal unless you make it one. Not saying this will happen, I'm just using it as example," I clarified, "But say we had sex and it was completely awful, if you started treating me different because of awful sex, then yeah, it would be awkward and a big deal. If you were like, meh, it was just some bad sex, got the fuck over it, and we had sex again, it would be better than the last time. That's the thing, it gets better."

"I see," Helga raised her eyebrows at me.

"Hnng, you do not know how badly I want to do you," I said, rather ineloquently.

"Oh, my God, you said just the right thing! Take me now, please!" Helga mocked with a smirk.

"It'd be easier if I knew why you didn't want to have sex but you were willing to let me feel you up," I crossed my arms.

"No," Helga tucked her hair behind her ear again, Goddammit. "Why do you want to have sex so bad?" she turned the question around.

"Because," I thought for a second. I had to word this delicately, I couldn't come across as a horny little fuck (even though I was). "Because... Okay, I won't lie. You are crazy sexy. You make me pop a boner. But I also want to have sex because you know I love you. Isn't that why we're really supposed to have sex at any rate? Because it's an expression of love? You just do this thing where you tuck your hair behind your ear and give me this big-eyed look and it's adorable and it makes me think of how much I love you and all I want to do is take you in my arms and know you. I want to know all of you, isn't that what I've been trying to do for forever?"

Helga looked down at her feet for a second, like she was considering what I was saying. Then she got up and put on her Doc Martens. Ah, I had failed. I had failed miserably. But then again, when was I verbose when it came to sex?

"Jesus, don't look like a kicked puppy," Helga grabbed her phone from the floor where it fell. "Just go and wank."

"They're nothing the same," I started.

"So you're saying you're going to walk me home with that thing pitching a tent?" Helga quirked an eyebrow at me.

God, this girl. Jesus fucking Christ.

–

Aklrjlkjaoiwjlakla college this semester is going omnomnomwith my time, but this one is extra long because I was never totally satisfied with it. I even took a huge chunk out. Also, really, a lot of filler but I've hit a road block with what needs to happen next in the story to make it to the conclusion. HAHA, GOOD THING I HAVE A LOT OF FREE TIME TO THINK.

Also, that synthetic molly thing, it's for real. A friend of mine did it and now he can't drink, smoke (both cigarettes and weed), or have sex for six months or he'll have another seizure. That's rough. Stick to the real deal if you're going to do drugs, man.

And my profile will be updated soon with links to all the new pictures I have drawn before my free time went poof.


	14. Chapter 14

"And that's it for today on the structure of cells," I said, crossing my arms and looking out over the classroom.

I had just taught my first biology lesson, and I had to say, I kind of enjoyed it. I tried to do things that I would find interesting, so after going over the basic structures in the cells, and what they do, I told the students to make their own cells with sugar cookies, frosting, and candy. It was something I had done when I was back in seventh grade and besides, who doesn't like free food?

Mrs Yves had told me to dress "more properly" than I usually did, so I was wearing a button up, dress jacket, dark jeans that had no holes in them, and some dress shoes. I felt all dapper and shit. It was weird, I caught a few of the sophomore girls looking at me like they wanted me or something. Even though they were only a year or two younger than me, I felt like some big old creeper. Maybe those teachers who get into relationships with their students got over that feeling. They must. I wasn't about to though.

"Nice job, today, Sid," Mrs Yves said, coming up to me while I cleaned up the mess. "I may use this activity again next year."

I was impressed.

"You did well, you were able to keep the student's attention. I always knew that you had learned something from this class, but you just didn't try," she told me.

"Uh, thanks," I said, giving her all my papers, "here's the lesson plan and my sources cited and stuff. I stuck mostly to the book though."

"Very good, since the book _is_ what they will be tested on," Mrs Yves took the papers from me, then let me go to my next class.

I gathered up all my stuff, tossing the frosting and candy and shit because it was all stuff that I didn't particularly care for. I kept the cookies though. Just outside the door, Helga was waiting for me. She actually scared me, I jumped like a good foot and screamed. I still maybe sorta screamed like a little girl. I never really could change that, no matter how hard I tried.

"H-Hi, Helga," I said, once my heart had stopped pounding in my throat. "You want a cookie?"

"Not really," she arched an eyebrow at me. "I just came to see how your first lesson went."

"Um, pretty good actually. Yves said she might use the activity I had the class do next year."

"Is that what the cookies were for?" Helga inquired.

"Yeah, I had them make cells out of the cookies. Like they had all this different frosting and candy, and like the dark green frosting was the plant cell wall, and the light green was the chlorophyll..."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Helga smirked. "I'm guessing that's why you're so dressed up as well."

"Yeah, I feel like some pompous asscock, dressed like this," I rubbed the back of my head and freed my hair from the ponytail it was in.

"You should dress like this more often," Helga said as we started walking some place, maybe to her locker or her next class, "it makes you look like less of an angry, hormonal teenage, and more like a productive member of society."

She kissed my cheek and walked off just as the late bell rang, leaving me standing there. She had actually kissed my cheek, in public, no less! I looked around expecting to see no one around, but there were a few stragglers who hadn't gotten to class. Wow! They didn't look like they had even noticed though, which I suppose was good for Helga.

I had almost forgotten about the game, I mean, I hadn't even thought of it for months. At this point it didn't even matter. I was over the popularity contest that I was so obsessed with last year. Sure, it was what made me pursue Helga in the first place, but my desire to have the social status that came with dating Helga had long since dissipated. Personally, I was over high school now. It wouldn't even matter in the long run. Just like I had accepted that one day, my relationship with Helga would end, I had accepted that trying to climb the social ladder in high school was pointless. I guess it just wasn't as big of an epiphany as my relationship was.

And technically, it didn't even count since I had lost the game anyway the first day I spoke to her. So whatever, fuck you high school, here's a big fat middle finger.

I realised that I was now hopelessly late for my next class, and the late pass Mrs Yves had given me wouldn't even cover it. But it was just my creative writing class, and this year it was only people who were genuinely interested in writing (except me, as I was taking it for an easy elective credit). The class was around eight people, which meant the teacher didn't really care. Besides, he already knew about what Mrs Yves was doing for me.

So I strolled right into that bitch like it was nothing. Everyone looked mildly shocked to see me in something besides the hipster-plus-punk-meets-grunge style I had perfected over the years.

"Sorry I'm late," I apologised to the teacher, "it took me longer than I thought to clean up after class. Do you want a cookie?" I brandished the box full of sugar cookies around.

"I want a cookie," several of the other kids in the the class said.

The cookies were passed out. All was well.

–

"Sid, are you busy?" Dad was standing in my open door way.

I put down my guitar. I had been practising some of the new songs that the guys and I planned to record in Harold's attic later on in the week. I was busy, but this sounded like something I shouldn't be busy for.

"No, Dad, what's up?" I asked, sitting up properly.

"We should talk," Dad said, coming in the room and taking a seat next to me on the bed.

"...About what?" I asked slowly.

"College."

Oh, right. Okay, cool. That was much better than what I thought it would be about. Like sex or how much I smoked pot or something. That would be awful, getting a lecture from my dad, who gets more ass than anyone I know, about sex.

"Oh, yeah, and?"

"Have you thought about applying to any schools? You need to start applying soon if you want to get into any schools at all. The university here is a good school. It's where I went."

"Dad, I thought I told you this, I'm not going to college just because that's what society expects me to do."

Dad frowned and looked angry for a second. Maybe I actually hadn't told him that. A slight oversight on my part.

"Are you not going to get a job because that's what society expects you to do?"

"I'm not that dumb, that I think I could get by without a job. I just want to go and do something I really love, and if I go to college, I want it to be because I really want to learn. Wouldn't you be happier that way, Dad? If I went to school and wanted to be there instead of going now and wasting your money by failing all my classes and dropping out after a semester? Because that's what I'm going to do if I go now."

Dad glared at me, "Well, if you don't go to college, you're going to have to work. I'm not going to have you laze around the house smoking weed all day."

"Dad, I'm already working. I don't plan to quit the record store, and my band's starting to get really big. We're going to play a show in New York this weekend. We could do a tour. We could get signed if we toured the whole summer."

"Sid, I'm not saying this to drag you down, but usually bands don't go far. I don't know if you should bank on being in a band for the rest of your life."

"I'm not. I'm doing it now because I really like doing it. And we really could go somewhere!" I said, starting to get a little defensive. "I don't plan on being in the band for the rest of my life. But we've been getting calls, places not even from here want us to play."

"I know you're doing better than the average garage band, but what is everyone else planning to do? Allen, doesn't he plan on going to college?" Dad asked.

"I dunno, that's why I don't want to make any plans yet. Would it be so bad that I took a year or two off from going to college if we ended up getting big? What I'm trying to tell you is that I'm not _ready_ to go to college yet, Dad!"

Dad sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This conversation would be going nowhere fast, because I was just like Dad: stubborn. Neither of us wanted to give up our position. I could tell Dad was just trying to be a good father and blah blah he's my Dad so he knows what's best and all, but what I wanted him to get was if he forced me into college now, it would be a waste of his money.

"Just apply to a few colleges. You could get in to a good college, even with your grades because your SAT was good. Just apply to a few," Dad urged me.

"Stop already, will you? I'll apply, but I won't go. I'm not into that whole go to college straight after high school, get a four year degree, get a decent job, marry a bitch and have two point five kids life plan. It worked out so well for you, right? I wouldn't be happy doing that. I just wouldn't, Dad, and that's why I don't want to go to college," I told him.

Dad looked resigned and sighed, ignoring my jibe at him. He stood up and crossed his arms, giving me a hard look. I just raised my eyebrows at him, waiting for Dad to say something.

"Fine, Sid, you can do whatever you want after you graduate, but know that I'll only support you financially if you choose to go to college," he said.

"That's cool with me!" I said. "'Cuz when I'm a famous rockstar, I won't need your money!"

I couldn't tell if I was being sarcastic or not. I think I was. I didn't honestly think that the band would be the way I made my living. But the real answer was that I had no clue what I wanted to do after graduation.

Dad rolled his eyes and left in a huff.

–

"What are you doing this weekend?" I asked Helga.

We were walking back from school. I was just walking Helga to her house before I had to go to work at four. It was starting to get colder during the day now, which meant I got to bring out the leather jackets all the time. That was totally okay with me, because I had been working on a new DIY jacket that was turning out pretty kick-ass.

"Nothing," Helga shrugged, then wised up. "Why?"

"We're playing a show in New York on Friday. I'd like you to come, is all," I said.

"I'll have to think about it," Helga crossed her arms against the prevailing wind.

"It'll be fun, we're going to rent a hotel room and stay there until Sunday. Go and do New York touristy shit, then get fucked out of our minds, go to a show, and piss on the subway."

"You can piss on the subway here," Helga gave me an odd look.

"You can piss on any subway anywhere, I wasn't going to actually do it, but Harold might, if he gets drunk enough. We're driving up Friday right after school gets out, it's neat, the venue's legit."

"Where?"

"It's a hole in the wall bar on the Lower East Side, but we're playing with these two other super cool sludge bands. They invited us to play with them because they heard us and were like, those dudes should play with us."

"Fascinating," Helga commented dryly.

"Will you come?"

"Sure," Helga said, but she didn't sound like she wanted to go. "I won't even have to ask Bob or Miriam for permission, because they won't notice."

I bit my tongue because I didn't know quite what to say and the tone of her voice made my skin crawl. She made it sound like Helga could announce that she was pregnant or addicted to heroin or something like that and they wouldn't notice. How could her parents be like that? Not notice shit? You think that they would notice _something_.

"Awesome, I'm glad you'll come. I like having you at shows," I said, and noticing that we were coming up towards Helga's house, stopped and gave her a nice goodbye kiss.

Helga looked disinterested, but I chalked it up to being in a shitty mood about her parents.

When Friday rolled around, the guys and I were like kids on Christmas with how excited we were. We had asked about every direction service there was for directions, so we wouldn't get lost, because if I hated driving around this city with all its one way streets, I would hate driving around Manhattan even more. It wasn't like I had a ton of experience with New York either. It was mostly going to the museums and stuff in elementary school, because they were so close.

It was Harold driving his station wagon with Allen and Kevin and then Dad lending me his Grand Ville again (very reluctantly) so Stinky and Helga and Phoebe could ride with me. I told Helga that she could bring a friend if she wanted, because sharing a hotel room with five guys probably isn't the most comfortable thing for a girl.

Dad had lectured me for like, an hour, on how he expected his car to come back in one piece, it was dangerous for a nice, antique car like his to be in a city like that and blah blah blah. I pointed out to him that we were only a half hour drive from "that city" and it wasn't exactly like we lived in some Midwestern town full of Midwestern hospitality. I also mentioned that our neighbourhood sucked and he left the car out in the driveway all the time, so I didn't know what he was worrying about.

Dad then muttered that a smartass like me was lucky to still be allowed to borrow the car.

It was going to be a tight squeeze, getting everything to fit into the car along with three other people. I contemplated telling Helga to just take the train over because it would be easier, but that would most likely result in her not coming at all. So I ended up being glad for the hours I wasted on Tetris as a kid, seeing as it was probably those skills that let me fit everything into the car. I hoped Helga wasn't claustrophobic.

So Friday afternoon Helga and I walked to Dad's car, which I parked on a street with no meters a few blocks away. Helga looked like she was in a better mood today than when I had last seen her. I mean, she laughed at my jokes about New York, but they could have just been pity laughs.

"So, we need to go pick up Phoebe?" I asked while I started the car.

"Yeah," Helga said and told me her address.

I pulled out of the parking spot and sped off. It was kind of a bad-ass feeling, driving to New York to play a show, with a hot girl in the passenger seat and a cigarette in my hand. I had brought my boom box and connected my mp3 player with an aux cord, so we didn't have to listen to crappy radio stations.

Once we picked up both Phoebe and Stinky, the sun was starting to set. It wasn't too long of a drive there, but traffic was awful. Along the way, Helga changed places to the back seat, so she and Phoebe sat there together, talking about something that I couldn't quite make out over the music, while Stinky and I sang along to whatever was playing. When we finally made it to the venue, which luckily had an alley that we could park in, it was dark and Harold had already arrived.

They had all their stuff set up and were talking with the other bands.

"What took you so long?" Allen asked.

"I had to stop and buy some drugs, no, what do you think? Fuckin' traffic," I shrugged.

Helga and Phoebe took a seat at the bar. Helga pulled out her phone and began to text. She could at least act like she was a little bit excited to be here for the weekend, Christ. The guys in the two other bands came over and introduced themselves. They also asked if we needed help unloading anything else, but since it was only Stinky's gear and mine, it wouldn't take too long for us to finish setting up.

Once all the gear was set up, I took a deep breath and relaxed, swinging my arms around to release the tension in my shoulders. Helga was still at the bar, sipping on a soda. Phoebe was on the phone, probably with Gerald.

"So, you guys got groupies already? Damn," the singer for one of the bands, Ian or something, laughed.

"Ha, I wish," I said, "the blonde one's just a good friend," I lied. All lies. "And the other one is her friend. I practically had to get on my knees and beg to get her to come."

"So you've only played in Hillwood before? Their music scene kinda sucks," Ian said before taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, 'cuz it's where we all live. I don't think we have the ability to do anything more than New York yet." I didn't really want to mention the fact that we were still in high school to Ian, who had the physique of a mountain man and the beard to match. He also sounded like he had balls of steel and drank the blood of first-born sons for breakfast.

"Well, New York's great to start out. Build up a good fanbase first before you do a real tour. Have you guys recorded in a studio yet?"

"Not yet, we want to though. Our 'manager,'" I used airquotes to refer to Kevin, "his father owns a record store in Hillwood, and knows a couple studios... he's the guy who got Gilgamesh started. So it would be cool if he could do the same for us."

"Gilgamesh? Really? They're pretty cool guys, we played with them once before."

"Yeah, they're all really good, fun guys, actually, the first time we ever played a real gig, we opened for them. I've never been so nervous in my life."

"Wow! Props to you kid, you'll do fine tonight then," Ian lightly punched my arm, at least I think he tried to "lightly" punch it. Still knocked me over a couple inches.

I walked away rubbing my arm and feeling a little slighted, I always did when people called me kid. It's not like I was nine any more, I was eighteen and legally an adult. I mean, yeah, all those guys were probably like thirty or something but whatever. No use getting all worked up over a three letter word.

Since the show wasn't going to start for a good hour, I stood around having cigarettes outside, mingling with the band members and people in the bar, and begging Harold to let me into his car so I could take hits off my one-hitter and have a shot or two to get me into the mood to play. Even though I was in a band _and_ making the bar money _and _not to mention the fact that it was the slummiest looking place I had even seen, they marked my hands up with X's the second I walked in the door.

So I was in the car throwing back my second shot to take the edge off things. The bar's side door opened and I quickly dropped the vodka to lap-level, where whoever it was hopefully couldn't see it. But then I saw it was just Helga so it was okay. She walked over to Harold's car and pulled the driver's side open. She sat next to me and chewed on her lip.

"Give me a cigarette," she said.

"I thought," I started, but stopped, deciding that it would be better to not bring up the fact that I thought she quit.

So I silently pulled two cigarettes out of my pack and handed one to her. I lit mine, then handed her the lighter.

"Yeah, I did, but one more won't fuckin' kill me much faster than all the rest," Helga said sullenly. "This is lame. I thought you said this would be a bucketload of fun, or some shit like that. And it smells like asshole in here."

"Well that's Harold for you, and 'sides, the night hasn't even started yet," I said, ashing my cigarette out the window. "You didn't have to come, you know, if you thought this wouldn't be fun. Besides, this is the boring part, waiting for the show to start."

"Still better than sitting around at home," Helga took a deep drag on her cig, exhaling the plume from her nose. She looked like a dragon.

It was weird, the way she was acting. It did remind me of a dragon, in a way. She was being quieter, she was just exhaling smoke from her nose. I hoped that soon I would see the fire, the spark, that made me love her so much.

"You're being a bit of a Debbie Downer, here, y'know," I said without thinking.

"I'm being a... yeah fucking right!" Helga spat. "Make up your mind, Gifaldi, you hate me when I'm angry, you hate me when I'm quiet, criminy!"

"I don't hate you! Don't put words in my mouth!" I returned, taking a deep drag on my cigarette to calm myself down. "You should fuckin' know by now I adore every inch of you."

"And you think you speak so slick, you're really just a manipulative asshole who thinks he can get away with everything," Helga ground out her cigarette on the dashboard.

"And is there anything wrong with doing things you know you can get away with?" I asked. "I think we're quite a pair, you and me, a passive aggressive bitch and a manipulative asshole."

"If you think I'm _passive_ aggressive..."

"An aggressive bitch and a manipulative asshole then," I corrected my previous statement.

"I miss the days when you were a coward," Helga muttered.

"Those days are long gone. I learned a long time ago that being a coward wasn't in the cards for me."

Helga snorted, "And what taught you that?"

"It's a long story," I said quietly. "But I guess my girlfriend freshman year did."

"The one you slapped?" Helga laughed.

"Yes, that one," I said with an edge to my voice.

Helga gave me a queer look but seemed to accept that I didn't want to talk about it. Someday I would tell her about, I supposed it was only fair since she had bared her soul to me about Arnold, but I hadn't even told Dad what had happened. Someday I would tell her. It was just one of those things that I really preferred keeping to myself.

"Fine, if we're not going to have a nice little heart to heart chat, then I'll leave you out here to get on with your budding alcoholism, bucko," Helga said shortly.

"Awesome, thanks," I said. "I'll tell you one day."

Helga just gave me that queer look again before slamming the door. I stayed out there for about fifteen minutes more waiting for my stomach to settle. Once I was sure I wasn't going to puke, I got out of Harold's car, locked it, and walked back inside the bar.

"Jesus, I was just about to go and get you, we're going on in ten minutes. I hope you're sober enough to sing," Harold hissed at me.

"I'm fine, lay off, Harold, you know I could drink you under the table if I really tried," I said, pushing past him.

Since we were least up on the band hierarchy, we went first, like usual. During the time I was outside, the bar had filled up considerably. This looked like it was going to be the biggest show we played yet, thanks to the popularity of the other bands.

I got up on stage with the rest of the guys and we all got ready, checking the sound levels again and making sure it all sounded good. When all the sound stuff was hunky-dory, I swallowed my nerves and stepped up to the mic.

"New York, what's up?" I said, willing that my stage persona would take over.

There was a half-hearted cheer from the crowd (I assumed it was because they weren't drunk yet). Stinky gave me a look, so I licked my lips and grinned out at everyone, grabbing the microphone stand so they wouldn't see my hands shaking.

"Well, we're Slow Turning Tide, homegrown over across the river, from Hillwood. Thanks to AFL-Fuck You, we're here playing tonight, and we're going to give you a _fucking show_!" I said, starting to strum out the first few chords of our opening song.

Once the music started to pour out of the speakers, I felt better and was determined to give the performance of my life. And I knew I would once I started belting out the first few words of the song. The crowd saw that we didn't suck because after a couple songs, they were getting into us. That was pretty cool. Actually, it was really cool. It was like a big middle finger to Dad who didn't think that I was good enough to make it.

The energy in the room was incredible, the way the crowd was moving and throwing their fists up and jumping around had me realise that my band was the one creating that energy and giving it to everyone. That was something I hadn't really experienced before. It was like I had come alive for the first time on that stage there.

Music has always been something that I enjoyed, like acting, sex, or being an asshole because I could. But that moment made me come to the conclusion that music was my passion. My _raison d'être_, if you will. I wanted to give anyone I could that energy all the time; I wanted to move them with my music; I wanted to make them feel because they were experiencing something I had created.

I was a different person when I stepped off the stage. I had my epiphany. Who cared what I did after graduation, all that mattered is that I continued to make music. Maybe I could even do college if I still was a musician. Maybe.

Harold, Stinky, Allen and I all bro-hugged and laughed and joked around with each other while we headed outside to smoke a cigarette.

"That was the best fucking show we've given!" Harold said, punching the air once we were out in the alley.

"Hell yeah!" Stinky agreed.

"I had a fuckin' epiphany out there," I said, having to share my revelation with somebody. "I think we could really make it as a band."

"Try telling that to my mom," Allen said.

"Well, we'll show her when we're playing shows every night and have a CD out," I said.

"Sid, I'd have to win a Goddamn Grammy or something before she thinks being a musician is a good career," Allen told me.

"What do parents know? They're old and settled. They don't remember what it's like to be young. They want us to do what they would do, but we gotta go and make mistakes."

"Despite the fact that all they're asking you to do is continue your education," Helga's voice said.

She and Phoebe had joined us outside. Phoebe looked a little traumatised, she probably wasn't used to having to fend against greater bodily harm at a concert. I bet she went to like, classical music concerts, or some smart-girl thing like that. Listened to people play the oboe.

"Hey, all I want to do is save my dad the cash. I've already figured out I'm not longed for the world of academia," I said to Helga.

"It is possible to graduate with a degree in music," Phoebe piped in.

"Whatever, the fact is, I don't want to go to college. Either way, we had a good fuckin' show. Celebration shot?" I asked.

"Celebration shot!" the guys responded.

Somehow we all piled in Harold's station wagon and passed the pint around. Even Phoebe took a sip, though she had to roll down the window and spit for a minute or two so she didn't throw up.

"Takes some gettin' used to, yeah?" Stinky said to her.

She nodded and made a face.

Then we went back inside where AFL-Fuck You was getting set up. The rest of the night was going to be awesome. Everyone came to see AFL-Fuck You and the other band, Ursula. We all hung out the bar, where Ursula's members were.

Phoebe was getting hit on by their creepy bassist, so Stinky stepped in to get him to back off. I was chatting to their drummer, while Helga looked like she was contemplating showing tits to get a drink. At least that's what I imagined her expression to be in my head, but then again, a lot of things are like that in my head. I don't think Helga would ever show her tits to get drinks. She was just classy like that.

Finally AFL-Fuck You were ready to start and the guys and I all dragged Phoebe and Helga right up front by the stage, so Phoebe at least could get a real concert experience. In the end, that was kind of a bad idea since Phoebe was so small, she kept getting smooshed against the stage. Ian finally pulled her up on stage and made her crowd-surf to the back, where she wouldn't get squished.

In the end, the night was really fun, because both Ursula and AFL-Fuck You wanted to perform with us again and we had a couple dates set up to perform again in the city. By the time we got everything packed up, it was bar close and the bartender, who apparently enjoyed the show, gave us all a round of tequila shots. Phoebe sat out on the shots, so she drove us all back to the hotel.

–

I opened my eyes the next morning and rolled over, ready to go back to sleep. But then my arm brushed against Helga's and I sat up. She had fallen asleep next to me and looked pretty silly with her mouth gaping open and her tongue lolling out. The others were strewn around the room. Harold was curled up with his thumb in his mouth; Stinky had his arms and legs spilling off the bed. Allen snored on the ground, unaware that over the course of the night, the air mattress had deflated. Phoebe was the only one sleeping like a normal person on the pull-out couch.

After checking the time, I decided that I did in fact want to go back to bed: it was six am. I scooted closer to Helga and draped my arm over her stomach, knowing that in the morning I could claim that I had done it in my sleep.

When I woke up again the room was empty. I slowly dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom to take a piss, but someone was in there showering, so instead I grabbed my smokes and went out to the balcony to have one. It was chilly out, but the cold woke me up. I contemplated peeing off the balcony.

Once I had finished my smoke, I returned back inside, fully intending to take a shower so I could wash the grime of last night off me. Smashing your body against dozens of other large, sweaty men means you don't smell as fresh as you could the next morning. I guess the person in the shower was Helga, because she was sitting on the bed in her underwear, running her fingers through her damp hair. She looked up at me with those stupid beautiful eyes of hers and being the sissy that I am, I melted.

"Hey. G'morning," she said with a small smile.

"Morning," I said, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss.

There was something so genuine about her at that moment, something I had never seen before. The way her stomach folded over itself and how her panties creased where her thigh draped over the other and the way her smile made her eyes crinkle. She was in a good mood, there wasn't any false anger or any sort of front, it was just Helga, genuinely happy.

"Where's everyone else?" I asked, sitting next to her and enjoying the feel of her skin against mine.

"Dunno, I think they're at breakfast," Helga shrugged.

She began to braid her hair, so I rested my chin on her shoulder. She smelled good, even if it was just the scent of the hotel's soap.

"'Kay... what do you want to do today?" I asked.

"It doesn't really matter," Helga responded.

"Alright, I'll think of something then, I'm gonna go shower," I said.

"Good. You stink."

I laughed and gave her a kiss, a sweet kiss, running my thumbs over her cheeks. After pulling away, Helga smiled at me again. It was nice to see her smile for once. I never thought I would see her smile.

The shower was the best thing ever, even though the water pressure sucked. It was just nice to feel clean again, instead of all grimey from last night. Though I failed to think of anything Helga would like to do while I was in the shower. Going to the Museum of Modern Art was the only thing I could think of, and I didn't even know if Helga liked art as much as she liked writing. And I hated a lot of modern art anyway (not that I was big on pencil and paint art in the first place, but at least I could appreciate all those naked ladies the old masters liked to paint).

When I came out of the bathroom Helga was lounging on the bed, dressed and watching a MMA fight on tv.

"I didn't think of anything to do yet, but I think the guys are going to try and see Ground Zero and the Statue of Liberty today," I said.

"I'll pass, didn't we all go and see the Statue of Liberty in sixth grade on a day trip?" Helga asked.

"I don't really remember," I said.

Helga shrugged and went back to watching tv. I rooted through my duffel bag and pulled out some clean clothes. Glancing up in the mirror, I noticed Helga watching me dress. Surprisingly, she didn't shy away or scowl when I gave her a grin. Not bothering with my shirt, I turned around and jumped onto the bed next to Helga and pulled her on top of me.

We were like that for a long time until the door opened and everyone came back from breakfast. Helga sprang away from me immediately. I won't say I wasn't hurt, but I wasn't surprised. I had gotten used to the idea that Helga thought our relationship was something better kept secret.

"You guys missed breakfast, sucks for you," Harold announced, plopping down on the bed.

"I'm a dang simple guy, you know that, and I don't need much to be happy, but that breakfast right made me wanna puke," Stinky said. "So maybe it's best they didn' go."

"It was very non-nutritive for the most important meal of the day," Phoebe added.

"You guys are all pussies, I've eaten shit worse than that," Kevin said loudly.

I wasn't aware he had left the comfort of his own hotel room to join them for breakfast.

"We'll just go out and get something, no big deal," I said. "So what are we going to do today?"

"We're going to do all that touristy stuff, go to Times Square, Ground Zero, Statue of Liberty," Harold said. "And then go to a club and get fucked."

"I'm scoring the drugs for tonight," Kevin said. "So pony up everyone."

Phoebe looked uneasy as we all tossed bills at Kevin. Helga didn't throw down, but I put a little extra in there just in case. Kevin put the bills in his wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket. Then he saluted us and left.

"That guy does _so_ many drugs," Allen said with a small shake of his head.

We all nodded in agreement.

"So, Helga, do you want to go and get breakfast?" I asked her.

"I _guess_, if we missed breakfast. Do you mind, Pheebs?" Helga sounded extremely disinterested.

"I'm sure I'll be okay for the short duration of your breakfast, Helga," Phoebe assured her.

"Good, because I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. Put on a shirt and let's go, Dick Nose," Helga got to her feet.

I rolled my eyes but pulled a shirt on while Helga struggled to find her shoes. I grabbed my wallet and threw on a jacket. Helga stuffed a few bills in her pocket then we were out the door. Down in the lobby I ask the concierge if there were any places to get breakfast around here. He told us that there was a Starbucks two blocks away, but a better, cheaper, local café three blocks away. I thanked him and we stepped out into the brisk fall air.

We didn't talk much as we walked. I lit up a cigarette. When we found the café, I hadn't finished my cig, so Helga told me that she wasn't going to wait around outside in the cold and watch me give myself cancer. I just raised my eyebrows at her. Did she really just say that to me? Whatever.

When I finished my cig, I ground it out on the pavement and stepped inside. Helga apparently already ordered and was sitting at a table by the window, breakfast in hand. I glanced at the menu, then stepped up to the register and ordered a plain coffee, three blueberry muffins, and two raspberry scones. After I was done ordering, I took a seat across from Helga.

"Well, are you enjoying yourself so far?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I guess, you?"

"Hell yeah, I got to play a sold out show, even if it was for a bunch of guys who looked like they haven't showered in weeks."

Helga chuckled and bowed her head to hide her grin.

I went on, "And I wish those guys would have taken longer at breakfast."

Helga turned faintly pink but scoffed.

"I like how you think the reason I don't want to have sex with you is because I'm a virgin," she said.

My eyes must have bugged out of my head when I heard that. So to cover the fact that I was so surprised, I crammed a whole muffin in my mouth (which was a bad idea, by the way – I nearly choked and died).

"You could have told me that earlier, so I didn't sound so stupid," I gasped once I had swallowed the last of the muffin.

"It was kind of cute, in a strange, fucked up way," Helga smirked at me. "I'm surprised you haven't asked me to give you details yet."

"Well, I am highly interested, but you probably held off on that info for a reason... so I'm not gonna be all, 'Gah, Helga, I must know your number, tell me now," or something like that. Even though I am really, really curious."

"Typical," Helga scoffed and took a sip of her coffee. "You're not as stupid as you try and make yourself. I'm sure if you thought really, really hard, you could figure it out."

"As stupid as I try and make myself?"

"Well, you seem to be quite determined to kill your brain cells every weekend."

"I'm just being a teenager."

"Normal teenager stuff, el-oh-el," Helga rolled her eyes but smirked.

Twenty minutes later we had finished our breakfast. I asked Helga if she wanted to walk around a bit and see if there was anything interesting, and she agreed. So we spent a good hour or so poking around, stopping in shops that looked cool. Helga bought a new notebook, and I got my Christmas shopping out of the way, which was surprising because I usually waited until December the twenty-third.

It was actually pretty nice, exploring the city with Helga. She was in a better mood than I had seen her in for a long while. I thought about asking her why she was in a good mood, but it was like she could read my mind. I didn't even have to ask.

"Your brand of fun sucks, but it's nice to have a break from the Bob and Miriam circus," she said.

"Excuse me? And what would you do?" I grinned at her.

"I would find the fight club," Helga laughed. "And then talk about it."

"Each to their own," I said with a dramatic sigh.

As we were heading back to the hotel, my phone rang. I figured it was Harold telling me to get my ass back to the hotel so we could go and sightsee, but it was Mom. I begrudgingly picked up.

"Hey, Mom," I said.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you for ages, where are you?" she demanded.

"Nice to talk to you too... I'm in New York, for my band, yeah? So what's up?" I glanced sidelong at Helga, who was pretending not to hear me.

"I— I just wanted to see if you'd be coming to my wedding," Mom sounded taken aback.

I let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger before saying, "Yeah, I mean, I'm your son, so course I'll be there." I tried not to sound defeated. "I'm sorry I stormed out of that dinner, it must have been the heat..."

"Sid, though I'm still mad you treated me that way, I can understand. I haven't really been there like I should have, so if you're willing to drop the attitude, we can try and work through things, okay?"

"That sounds good, Mom," I said, not really sure what to say. I mean, how could I turn that down? Sorry, Mom, I really liked you not in my life because Dad lets me do whatever I please? But she was my mom, so there wasn't much else to say.

"How did your band thing go? Did you win?" Mom asked.

"It's my... not, it's not for school, it's a band I started with some friends. But it was good, it went good. I'm out sight seeing now. I saw Times Square."

Helga was snickering to my left, listening to my blatant lies now that the conversation wasn't anything too personal.

"When are you coming home? You should call me when you're home and please, be safe, Sid. New York isn't as nice as Hillwood."

"Okay, Mom, I gotta go. We're uh, gonna catch a cab and I don't want to be that one guy talking on the phone loudly, so I'll call you when I'm home. Bye," I said and hung up before Mom could squeeze out a goodbye.

"How is it you always get people to apologise to _you_ when you're the one who did something wrong?" Helga asked me.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Everything comes up Sid. I can get away with anything," I grinned.

–

That night Kevin returned looking completely wired. Helga and Phoebe were getting ready for the club in the bathroom, doing their makeup and other chick stuff. Y'know, what girls usually do when they go to the bathroom together. Maybe they had hot lesbian sex? Who really knows what they do.

Kevin spread the loot out on one of the beds. I made sure to set some aside for Harold, since he was out on a booze run.

"I got good stuff," Kevin said. "Real good. Great. Fantastic."

"Yeah, and what is it all?" Allen asked, poking at a packet of pills that looked like Adderall.

"Any uppers you could dream of and then some delicious brownies because who wants to carry a pipe around, no one, for real, not about to get arrested again," Kevin said in a very rapid-fire manner.

"Kick ass," Stinky said, picking up a small packet of white power, completely ignoring Kevin.

"That, that I had to keep in my underwear just in case a cop wanted to pat me down," Kevin told us all. "Crotch it and it'll be safe."

Stinky promptly dropped the packet back on the bed.

"What is it?" I asked, sitting down on the bed.

"Blow. I'm pretty sure. 'Cuz the molly, that's in the little pills. I'm pretty sure I did it like that so I wouldn't forget, so yeah, that must be how it is."

Stinky gave Kevin a very hard look for a second, then went over to the bathroom and politely told the girls that if they didn't want to watch us getting messed up, they should probably stay in the bathroom. To probably everyone's great surprise, Helga left the bathroom and came to survey our assortment.

"Hey," I said to her.

I felt funny, laying out some rails on a hand mirror right in front of her. She surveyed me with a sort of idle curiosity. I bit my lip and contemplated not doing it at all. But I told myself, I would only do coke if I had a good reason, and a big ass night on the town seemed like a good enough reason. Not like I had the money to throw away on it anyways.

"What's that?" Helga asked.

"Coke," I said while rolling up a dollar bill.

When I brought my head up again everyone was looking at me expectantly. I closed my eyes and waited, sniffing and wincing.

"It's definitely blow," I coughed before setting the mirror down on the bed for Allen and Stinky. "I'm going to go have a cig."

Helga followed me outside. I offered her a cigarette just in case it was like last night, but she turned me down.

"So, how do you feel?" she asked, like she was curious about it.

"Pretty damn good. I don't know if I want to do anything else tonight besides Addie," I said quietly, because I was always paranoid when it came to talking about drugs while on them.

"That's surprising," Helga raised her eyebrows.

"You make it sound like I intend on becoming a junkie. I just like having a little fun. Even if you don't want to do anything, you should take some Adderall. You just feel really good and you'll be able to stay up all night. Feel really shitty the next day, but probably better than I will."

"I see," Helga said, giving no indication that I had convinced her of anything.

"Yeah," I lit up my cig and exhaled, shivering a little. "From what I've gathered, we're going to some club and we'll probably be at it until close."

"Wow, I think I died from information overload," Helga said. "I'll think about it."

"Your sarcasm amazes me," I said.

"It's a finally crafted skill. Maybe someday you'll be as good as me," Helga smirked.

"Oh, I could only hope to be as good at being sarcastic as the great Helga Pataki," I said. "It will be the only thing I shall ever strive for!"

"Shut up, you weasel," Helga swatted me, but I assumed she meant it in a playful manner because it didn't hurt too bad.

Someone in the hotel room had put on music. Glancing in there, I saw that Harold had returned. All the guys were throwing back shots while Kevin sat on the bed, feeling his hair.

"So... uh, what is he even on?" Helga had her eyebrow quirked as she watched Kevin.

"I... I don't know. I've never seen anyone act like that and I've seen Stinky take a lot of things," I said. "I just hope he doesn't follow us around."

Helga shook her head. I snuffed my cigarette and then dropped it off the balcony, hoping no one got hit in the head with it. Helga pulled the door open and we went back inside. Kevin had gone from feeling his hair to running his hands along his ripped jeans.

"I'm so thirsty," he muttered.

I turned away from him to give Harold a fistbump.

"Hey man, what'd you get?" I asked.

"I figured, since we're in New York, we should be classy an' shit so I got some Grey Goose and Ciroc."

"Nice," I picked up the bottle of Ciroc and looked it over before taking a swig right from the bottle.

About twenty minutes after we started drinking, Helga and Phoebe came out of the bathroom to join us. Helga had on a black shimmery dress that had one long sleeve with shiny things all up it. It was hard to keep my face neutral when I saw her. Phoebe looked nice too, but she was more understated than Helga in a navy blue scoop neck shirt and a tight white skirt.

"When are we dipping out for the club?" Helga asked, sitting next to me and picking up the bottle of Ciroc.

She handed it to Phoebe, who had two cups ready for them.

"I dunno, like... we're thinking about getting there around eleven, eleven-thirty. Don't want to get to the club too early, but you don't want to get there too late," Allen said.

So we whiled away the hours before our departure in the hotel room, drinking and listening to music and generally having a good time except for when Kevin tried to eat a pillow and cried when we took it away. He said it was the biggest marshmallow he saw in his life and it was telling him to eat it. We all worried how he would fare in the club.

At eleven we rounded everyone up and hit the road. The subway we took was pretty busy, since it was a Friday night and a club-filled area anyway. Standing on the train we were all pumped up and ready to dance. At one point, someone (no one remembered who) started singing and we pissed off all the other passengers I bet. There was some middle-aged man in a suit who looked like he was seconds away from yelling at us to shut up.

"What do you say when you're too fucked up?" one of us would sing.

"King Kong's dick in a tiny hole!" we would all answer.

By the time we got to our stop, even Helga and Phoebe were shouting along with us. Seeing tiny Phoebe yelling about dicks was certainly a sight to see.

"What do you say when you run out of drugs?"

"KING KONG'S DICK IN A TINY HOLE!"

And with that, we got off the subway, laughing the whole time. We were all pretty excited for the night ahead.

–

Hey, hey, kids! I'm alive.

Shit, it's been a long time since I updated this. Being an adult will do that to you.

And not having internet too.

The original version of this chapter was much longer, and I hadn't even really finished writing it? But I don't know, I couldn't think of a good conclusion, so I decided to chop it down. I keep forgetting that I haven't put this part up when I do art, so I'm just like, herp, they have no idea what I'm talking about. I've also read and re-read this chapter so much that I feel I won't notice mistakes? I'll give it a good five months then come back to fix them.

So yis. I really would like to finish this story, but at the rate it's going, I'll probably be like twenty-five before I finish, lol.


End file.
